Behind The Curtain
by Thought'sPen
Summary: Tristan and Rory are both cast in the school's modern musical. Long night rehersals and backstage drama are only the set for more banter and moments. With the thespian egos and mischevious stage crew, you know something is bound to occur.
1. Pilot

**Hey Everyone. I'm back. It's summer, so hopefully updates will be sooner. I wrote "Dealin' With It" and "The Jerk". None of these stories have anything to do with each other, so you don't have to read them first or anything. But I liked Dealin With It a LOT better than The Jerk. **

**Ok. This is the senior year at Chilton. Tristan never got expelled, and there was never the kiss at Madeline's Party. So...roll with the punches.**

* * *

"And _then_?" His eyes got wide in salivating anticipation..._And then _those two words feul half of Duncan, Bowman and my lunch time conversation. The two leeches can't get any on their own, so they latch on to me for crumbs and crusts of my Casanova-level trysts. 

Ah, I shan't jade the two ticks. It isn't just stories. Clinging to me provides entrance to party central, a name to drop when flirting, and a line to add to their resume of connections. That last one always makes the parental units happy as well. While dad isn't necessarily thrilled by my choice of friends, both of their parents couldn't be gladder. Gladder...is that a word?

I haven't really decided why I haven't yet sprayed the two with Bug-B-Gone. Eventually I will, of course, but not yet. Anyway. They're kind of interesting in their own right.

"Look, dude, why hear something boring like Carol and me, when I could be relazing to the story of _your _Friday night." It was a barb and we all knew it. These bozos didn't do anything on Friday night.

"I was stuck at a Family event." Duncan lied sullenly. He's actually a decent liar, I just happen to know he was watching Pay-Per-View X raters because he had the unsatisfied weekend gleam in his eye.

"I got arrested." Bowman announced proudly. "Dad bailed me out at 4 in the morning."

Admittedly, I've gotten in my fair share of trouble, and I go to Chilton, so any trouble is accentuated five times it's size in gossip. But I've never been put in jail. I'm too good for that. Actually, maybe I'm not too god for that, maybe I'm jsut too rich...but "too good" sells better on the business card.

"So, they decided on the fall play...um...whatsit?" Bowman pretended to think.

It didn't fool me for a moment. Bowman too obviously knew which play was going up this year-but his new "too cool for school" phasad prevented immidiate outward recall of "uncool and in school" facts and events. It was almost cute.

"Yeah!" He pretended to remember, even though there were audition posters hung all around the cafeteria. "It's a mordern day, musical version of _Romeo and Juliet. _One of the students wrote it." Bowman pretended not to care at all.

"Musical? They wrote music to Shakespeare?" Duncan mimiked my smirk.

"Modern music, like Usher and stuff. It's set in the high school, none of the music is original, they just bought the rights."

"Meaning?" I was giving him lee-way, I was letting him talk about it.

"Well, Juliet will think about Romeo and then bust out into some Celine Dion chick song instead of some Broadway stuff."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked with a hard smirk.

"DuGrey, it's, um, our senior year." Bowman had obviously been planning this little speel for some time because he only stammered a little. "I mean, I-we-you-all of us need a fine art extracurricular to quality for Ivy League. Sure our parentals will pay us in and everything, but maybe we should be legit. In case, you know?"

I loosened my tie casually. "Where did that thought come from?"

"Well, at home. I just want to have a few fall backs, in case oil doesn't work out, you know?"

He was going through what I call the mid-teen crisis. When they realize that the parents money may not be there the whole lifetime. Then they all grow out of it, and realize it will, in fact, be there. I'm sorry, it may sound "full of it", but it's too true to deny.

Duncan opened his mouth for a smarmy slam-down, but I cut him off.

"Go for it, dude, I hear some of the drama crowd's babes are pretty fine."

"What about you?" He asked quickly.

I crushed my can of coke and gave him a friendly glare which spoke for me: Don't push it.

He got the message.

* * *

**Short chappy, but it's going somewhere! wink**

**PS: I got the idea for a school play from "TJ and his Princess" (a fabulous fanfic, forgive my shameless advertisements!) BUT, it's going a completely different direction so please don't think I stole off her because I have AMAZING respect for her work and I know she won't think I'm copying because there is no way to duplicate how glorious her story is!**

**Peace Out!**


	2. Rory's Turn

"Thanks for giving up your lunch for me." I had hoped to brush in lightly and appear collected and graceful, instead I had hurried in and dropped in the chair like a harried waiter about to enjoy her five second break.

"Miss Gilmore, I've reviewd your transcripts and you have an excellant potential. You just need some...fine tuning."

An image of a Stradivarious violin popped in my head. I smiled pleasently.

"Have you seen the posters for the fall play?" My college advice counselor slid an audition call form for "Julie and R-man" across her gleamingly clean desk.

I winced. My dream bubbly erased the image of the voilin and replaced it with a screeching banjo. "Julie and R-man" was an insult to William Shakespeare. Just before coming in I'd ranted with Paris about what an insult it was.

"According to your file notes, you did a very convincing Juliet your sophomore year. A fine art credit would look exemplirary on your file, very well-rounded, very Chilton."

I struggled slightly in my chair. "I can't sing a note, ma'am."

She dismissed the notion airly. "The choir director will teach you, you'll have extensive praoctice and rehersal. I highly recommend that you audition."

I squirmed. "How about Latin club?" I detest Latin, a firm sign that I was grasping at straws.

She gave me a knowing look. "Miss...Gilmore, see, Julie and R-man is getting a _lot _of notoritity." She paused for effect. "Many college representitives will be present. Ivy League."

I frowned slighly. "I don't think the theatre program is for me."

She signed and moved on to my class schedule, but I wasn't listening. I was looking at the audition form in front of me.

* * *

I grinned at a girl as I got into my car. Lately I've noticed that a full-frontal grin makes them really giddy, like I noticed them individually and they made me smile. When, in reality, I don't know the chick's name and her car is a wreck. And, come on, what girl could seriously find herself "amazing" in a plaid, pleated box skirt?

"He-e-e-ey!" A group of boys were catcalling. I glanced over to see who the girl in question was.

Rory "Mary" Gilmore.

Of course.

She was walking alone, head held high in silent fury and a few books, in order of size were slung in one arm.

I started pulling out of the parking lot and watched her in amusement.

I sidled the car next to the sidewalk she was walking on and stayed by her side, looking at her. I rolled down my window even though my top was down.

"Hi Mary." I smiled.

She didn't look at me. "Afternoon, Tristan." She said icily. About mid-junior year she gave up on arguing about her nickname. I was a little disappointed actually, she'd at least face me if she wanted to bicker about her name.

"Need a ride?"

"I like the bus, thank you."

"How's Dean?" I asked in fake politeness. They had broken up a few months ago and I always pretended not to remember.

"Ask him yourself."

"Egg sale Tuesdays."

She gave me a sidelong, disgusted look. "You're pathetic."

"Mary, don't tell me that you're _so _rich that you buy eggs when they're _not _on sale!"

She stopped. I braked.

"You're impossible." She muttered.

"Mar, how about going to the Winter Waltz with me." You know what is more pathetic than me following her? I knew she was going to say no. 100. Yet somehow, the words jumped from my mouth anyway.

She opened her mouth.

I cut off whatever sharp remark she had on the edge of her tounge. "Think about it, Mar. You know you want me." I snapped and pointed lustfully at her while I drove away.

* * *

I watched his headlights buzz a firey red and disappear in the line of Mercedes, BMSs, and Jags. _I swear, Chilton's parking lot is a regular car showcase._

Tristan is the very definiteion of incorrigible. He's impossible and never gives up. He's good looking and he knows it! He's so quick with a comeback! I need Mom, she'd hit him or leave him utterly tongue-tied. A feat that I myself have never been able to accomplish.

I stomped onto the bus and angrily watched the school vanish behind perfectly manicured hedges.

Chilton is so elite it doesn't have buses, especially not out of Hartford. I have to take the evil public bus, and the same driver always leers at me like the school uniform is a third eye, or a Nazi swatzika.

Finally the car got to Stars Hollow and my body found its proper resting place on the couch with my AP English novel and a Fudgesicle. I let my limbs melt into the mismatched pillows and find their happy place.

"Hey Ror, did the counselor send you any advice for your Harvard App?" Mom waltzed in with a pint carton of Ben and Jerry's _Chunky Monkey._

I frowned. "She said I needed to be more well-rounded in the fine arts department."

"Oh! Play the triangle in the school band. That's what I did!"

I gave her my most sarcastic look, "Puh-leeze." I knew I sounded like Michelle on _Full House, _but Mom couldn't play a kazoo.

"Well, I _would have _if _someone _hadn't been kicking my spleen at the time."

"The spleen." I looked back to _War and Peace _"Is the only section of your body that you can live without." I said matter-of-factually.

"Oh! Look at me! My name is Rory Gilmore, and I command immidiate recall of useless information!"

"It's not useleess, it's my essay question for Human Bio on Friday."

"Well, Miss Smarty-Pants, when is the _Brady Bunch _re-run where Marsha meets the enemy school's football captaion, who's a totaly babe by the way, even if he's just doing it to steal Greg's playbook?"

I ignored her.

"Sunday at seven! That's right!" She looked at her watch. "Remind me to TiVo it, won't you, my little circus freak?"

I ignored her.

"Soooo, how did she recommend you become fine with art?"

I looked over the edge of my book. "Try out for the upcoming school musical."

She laughed. "Will you."

"NO!"

She looked thoughtful. "Look hun, you're not doing all this studying and putting in all these hours just to get a rejection letter because you have stage fright are you?"

The same thought had been swimming around my head since lunch. I sighed.

"Just a thought." She put the punt down and looked at her watch again. "I'm meeting Miss Patty for Bingo."

I blinked. "What?"

"Bingo.I'm an old maid, kiddo! I've got a college kid comin'!" She smiled gaily. "Anyway, the grand prize is a toaster! A white one! So instead of cleaning the old one, we'll just replace him!"

I smiled finally.

"AH! The sun _did _come up." She kissed the top of my head. "Be back wtih Troy."

"Troy?"

"I've already named out new burning device."

"Of bread-scalding torture." I chimed in.

I watched her leave, then pulled ou the Julie and R-man audition form that thecounselor had thrown in between a Notre Dame and Yale brochure.

"Past experience." I mumbled as I pulled out my pen. "None."

* * *

**Sorry that these updates have taken so long, but I just finished my summer job so expect faster updates. And for anyone who read "The Jerk", guess what! I PASSED MY AP TEST! wootness.**

**-pen**


	3. Not For The Life Of Me!

"Look man, I've done detention. I have a private desk in Saturday school." Duncan was yakking agian. Yakkity, yack, yack. I've heard nothing. We were waiting for Bowman to wrestle his way to the front of the drama room to pick up his retarded audtion resume and sign up for a time.

"Mr. DuGrey." Miss Warren paused as she was walking into the drama room. She's a new drama teacher, fresh out of college. And it's already too obvious she has a crush on me. It's patronizing almost, my interactions with her.

"Miss Warren." I grinned, poiltely flirtatious and sickeningly sweet.

When I say fresh out of college, I forgot an extra comma. I mean: _fresh_,_ out of college_. Being a drama teacher she does all that choreography for the spring musicals and she's a dancer. Heck _yes, _she's a dancer. Amazing legs. She can't be over 26 years old, though no one knows for sure, great auburn hair. Obviously not her natural color, but now gives right?

"Are you trying out?"

I smirked. "I don't know if I got what it takes."

She smiled slyly. "It never hurts to try." She opened the leather portfolio she was carrying. Her own dance resume was inside with her black and white head shot were laid carefully on top of the stack of audition forms inside. She left it open a moment too long, purposely letting me notice her heavily made-up face, hair teased to unnatural sexy fullness, her mouth was curved slightly absolutely seductive.

She flipped behind it and pulled out an audition form. "Here you go." She slowly pulled a pen out of her breast pocket. and wrote with a flourish atop the page. "3:20" in vibrant red.

"A highly sought after time. Right after school, you won't even have to wait." She smiled at me.

_Could I help myself?_ "I'll be there."

"Great, thanks Tris-tan." I think it was an attempt at a coo or purr, but it came off as a red flag. I had a teacher admirer to add to the collection. _Not that I'm counting_.

She left and I looked at Duncan who was still lusting after the ground she'd been standing on.

I smirked and looked at the crisp form.

The door opened and Bowman came out with a creased and wrinkled form. "Dude, do you know how hard it is to get one of these from those uptight drama freaks? And you should have seen the guy riot when Warren walked in."

I flashed mine quickly. "Not really."

* * *

I was read. Well, that was a lie. I was as ready as I was going to get. I hate performing. I signed up for an early audition spot as soon as the scheduling table opened up for that very reason, any more time do think and I would have chickened out. 

"Mar! What are _you _doing here?" All too familiar. Thevoice was, as usual, too close for comfort.

* * *

I can't say she was the first person I expected to see, but I collected myself quick enough for a typical smarmy remark. 

I had gone in expecting a flirt session with Warren, and instead of the dime-a-dozen babe I thought I'd see, Rory Gilmore stood there in all her angelic glory.

She hates being in front of people. She hated being Juliet our sophomore year. She hates giving presentations, she makes _note cards _for that sort of things. She made note cards for her presentation on what she did _over the summer_! Unless you got high or something, you don't need notecards. I couldn't think of a single, valid reason for her being there. Nervously, standing there, clutching a neatly folded resume.

"Mar! What are _you _doing here?" I asked loudly.

She whirled around. "Me? What are doing here! Are you stalking me?"

I smirked. "Mar, don't flatter yourself. I signed up through my own free will, my motives, were not in fact triggered by your mesmerizing hold over me."

She narrowed her eyes. "Forgive me."

"Mary, why are you nasty to me? What have I done to you? Must you scorn my unpent adoration?"

Her glare deepened. "Tristan, why are you trying out for the play?"

That was the moment Miss Warren chose to make her entrance. She smiled at me, and I smiled back.

Rory made a noise in the back of her throat of understanding, then sat down. I sat behind her. I meant to make eyes at Miss Warren the entire time, but my gaze kept straying to the back of Rory's head. It was tilted slightly in willful choice not to let me see her face. Her flingertips traced the outline of her audition form.

"Right." Miss Warren took the front of the room and quickly introduced the middle age woman with her, Miss Fletcher, the choir teacher. "Right. Today's audition will require everyone's choice of a one minute clip from a Broadway musical. Tomorrow at lunch we will have the callback list up for call backs with the people who have shown enough potential to do some cold reading. Yes? Yes. Good. Alpha order, girls then boys. Bartam, Gilmore, Halloway, Henderson, Zhang. Then Curtis, DuGrey, Kent, Scott, and Yi. Yes? Yes. Bartam?"

Kelli Bartam stood in front of the group. Her eyes found mine, then darted away, then flitted to me again. I would have winked at her and watched her turn red, always a fascinating hobby-but I was tracing Rory's posture with my eyes.

"I'll be singing _There Are Worse Things I could Do _from _Grease_." She whispered shakily.

Her voice was piney, then. It was like a thread, about the snap and being spun through a rickity spinning wheel. I winced. She muttered through the song, then sat down.

"Thank you, Kelly...Rory Gilmore?"

Rory stood, handed Miss Warren her form and swiveled to face us. She pointedly didn't look at me.

"My name is Lorelai-Rory-Gilmore and I'm singing _Not For The Life of Me _from the play _Thoroughly Modern Millie._" She cleared her throat gently and began.

Her voice started wavery, but quickly evened itself out. It wasn't excitingly distinct, but the practiced tone was even more accentuated by how bad Kelli had been.

"_I studied all the pictures in magazines and books  
I memorized the subway map too  
It's one block north to Macy's and two to Brothers Brooks  
Manhattan, I prepared for youYou certainly are diff'rent from what they have back home  
Where nothing's over three stories high  
And no one's in a hurry or wants to roam  
But I do, and they wonder whyThey said I would soon be good and lonely  
They said I would sing the homesick blues  
So I always have this ticket in my pocket  
A ticket home in my pocket  
To do with as I choose  
Burn the bridge, bet the store  
Baby's coming home no more  
Not for the life of me  
Break the lock, post my bail  
Done my time, I'm out of jail  
Not for the life of me  
A life that's gotta be more than a one-light town  
Where the light is always red  
Gotta be more than an old ghost town  
Where the ghost ain't even dead_"

Her voice strung out the last bar with noticeable evenness. It was a good audition, she even managed to smile at Miss Warren, who smiled back.

Mrs. Fletcher studied Rory. "Thank you Rory, Have you gotten voice lessons before?"

"No Ma'am."

"You should. It could give you enough improvement for leads."

* * *

I wasn't sure if it was a compliment or not. Did she mean I was so bad I needed lessons, or that was good and worth lessons? 

"Thank you." I said quietly. "Do I leave?" Kelli hadn't left yet, she was sitting next to my empty chair. I felt my hands jittering ever so slightly in aftershock. I had done it!

"No, after the last one you leave. Please sit."

Halloway, Henderson, and Zhang did their songs. Henderson is first alto in the school honor choir she did well. I wasn't sure if I'd done better or worse than any of the girls.

I got lucky, I had spent the previous night up with Miss Patty. She had taught me to keep my chin up, to lie my tongue flat, and to keep my lungs inflated. Tristan's expression had been unreadable as I sang. I couldn't tell if he liked it or not. _Not that I care._

"So, Curtis!" Mrs. Fletcher finally broken into a grin. It was directed to the boy next to Tristan.

Sean Curtis stood. I've seen him around school, and seen his picture often. He's been lead male of every musical since freshman year. "Billy Crocker" in _Anything Goes, _"Tevye" in _Fiddler on the Roof_, and "The Phantom" in _The Phantom of the Opera_. They did a bio about him in _The Franklin _and I spent a lunch once reading about amazing he is. A full ride to Juliard, and a guaranteed position as lead tenor in the Juliard freshman choir. I guess he's the triple threat because he cane sing, dance, and act.

"I'll be singing "Music of the Night" from _Phantom of the Opera_. May I play my accompaniment?"

"Of course, Sean."

Did I forget to mention he plays the piano and guitar?

His voice melted into the most soothing tone I'd ever heard in my life. His eyes got far away and I just sat in rapture. This guy is better than Mom's Josh Groban CD!

He finished and smiled brightly at the two ladies. "Or somethin' like that." He smiled modestly.

"Sean, that was wonderful."

"Why _thank you_, Mrs. Fletcher." He looked gently around the room, and then his gaze settled on me.

He winked.

* * *

**Au Revoir!**


	4. RENT!

_Did he just wink at Mary? _I frowned. _Why the heck would he do that? _I had hated enough for his audition, now he was preying on Rory.

I say preying because he suddenly reminded me of those mosquito wasps that paralyze their prey before injecting their eggs into it. He paralyzed her with music, music that sucked by the way, and now he was winking at her. WINKING! My move!

"Tristan? Ready?"

My head shot up towards Miss Warren. "Huh?" I had forgotten why I was even in the room.

"Your song."

I didn't have one prepared. I didn't even _know_ I needed one. Did I even know a song? Sure, I've seen Broadway, I'm rich, it's a requirement, but I've never admitted I like it. I've actually only liked-liked one musical. _Rent _because they cursed a lot and it was finally a realistic Broadway show. I even had the _Rent _soundtrack hidden in an Audio Adrenaline case in my car.

"I just signed up yesterday-" I began.

Curtis smirked at me from the front of the room. I felt a little red creep up the back of my neck.

"Not prepared?" He asked softly.

I forced a bigger smirk. "Yeah, Curtis, I gotta song. But I don't dig Broadway."

* * *

I watched in amazement as Tristan squared his shoulders to Sean Curtis. 

"Cuz Broadway pretty much sucks. And, dude, I'm trying out for a modern play, so I'm gonna sing a modern song. You like Usher, _Curtis_?"

"No."

"Well, ok. Wuddya like, Curtis?"

Sean opened his mouth, but Tristan cut him off.: "Usher? Nokiddin'?I don't really care for him, but ok, only for you baby."

"Tristan! You can't do modern. It has to be Broadway, that's the rules!" I snapped. I said it without thinking.

He looked at me and smiled. "Ok Mary, wuddya want me to sing?"

I paused. Patty had picked out my song because I didn't know any Broadway music. "Sing...um..."

"How about _Rent_?" He asked. I'd never heard of it before.

"Sing _Rent_."Sean agreed."I know you've seen it, it's the only Broadway show with the f word in it." Sean cut in.

Tristan smiled evily. "The _F-word_?" He pounced. "Which F word, Curtis?"

Sean finally broke and blushed a little.

"I actually do know some rent." He looked at the teachers. "That ok?"

"It's Broadway." Ms.Warren conceded.

"Great." He scowled at Sean and began.

"How do you document real life?  
When real life is getting more  
Like fiction each day  
Headlines -- bread-lines  
Blow my mind  
And now this deadline  
"Eviction -- or pay"  
Rent!  
How do you write a song  
When the chords sound wrong  
Though they once sounded right and rare  
When the notes are sour  
Where is the power  
You once had to ignite the air  
And we're hungry and frozen  
Some life that we've chosen  
How we gonna pay  
How we gonna pay  
How we gonna pay  
Last year's rent  
We light candles  
How do you start a fire  
When there's nothing to burn  
And it feels like something's stuck in your flue  
How can you generate heat  
When you can't feel your feet  
And they're turning blue!  
You light up a mean blaze  
With posters --  
And screenplays  
How we gonna pay  
How we gonna pay  
How we gonna pay  
Last year's rent!"

It was a rock song, obviously a duet too, but he pulled it off. It was more entertaining than skillful. He knew all the words. I'd never heard the song before, but I imagined with a few drum machines and a guitar in the background it would pass for preformable.

"There's your song, Curtis. Forgive me, but I have to get going." He left abruptly.

I watched him go in slight shock. He had just done a fabulous audtion. The song didn't require a lot of vocal skills, just performance, and his contempt for Sean, easily loud voice, and unembarassed chreshendo had made it in character and absolutely amazing.

Miss Warren looked turned on, and Mrs. Fletcher looked mortified. When they said Broadway, they meant _Annie _and _Les Miserables. _They had just gotten an audition that was actually in the form of music they'd be performing. And it was good.

I think I was more shocked than anyone. Tristan singing was a classic comedic moment, but he'd been decent. Not vocally, just performance wise.

_Well, he lies to girls all the time, he _must _be a performer._

"Right...um...next?" Miss Fletcher asked weakly.

* * *

**Yeah, I didn't want to get too unrealistic and say that Tristan or Rory had amazing vocal talent. Don't worry, I won't pull and Tristan being Romeo and Rory being Juliet on you guys!**


	5. Call Backs

I curled my legs underneath me and looked down at the same sentance on the page. I felt like I was reading the same sentance over and over again. I felt like I was reading the same sentance over and over again. I felt like I was reading the same...My head snapped up. _I'm slowly, but surely, going insane!_

For some reason I had the song that Tristan had sung stuck in my head. And, what is worse, I didn't know any of the words, so I just had one of the lines replaying and replaying and replaying like on of Lane's poorly written ditties about how horrible her mother is. The ones where she gets one line down, sings it a couple times, and then feels guilty for the thought and throws it away, but hums the one line over and over. That was the sort of thing.

Not that that made any sense.

"I'M HOME!" Mom bounded into the room threw her bags into different corners and jumped over the arm of the couch and onto me. I smiled.

"How was work?"

"Who cares? How was your auditition! Did you do well? Did they fall at their feet and scream 'BE OUR JULIET!', or am I out five bucks becase that is what I bet Luke this morning."

"You're out five bucks."

She shrugged gaily. "That's ok, I'll lie."

"Mom!"

"It's a fabulous money-earning technique."

"Well, you won't believe who else was trying out for the show."

"Paris! _No way_! She's not _that _desperate to get into college!" She hugged a pillow and took the proper audience stance.

"No, Tristan!"

"Really? Did he follow you in there?"

"No! He had signed up and everything. He even sang a broadway song."

"Really? I didn't know rich boys sang. What did he sing?"

"_Rent_."

"Really? I saw that on Broadway because it originated in San Diego, California and I knew it was the closest I was going to get to the beach. That's awesome! There's a movie coming out, did you know that?" She threw out her arms "Seasons of looo-oooo-ooove!"

I blinked.

"Sorry, continue."

"Well, he did really well. It wasn't exactly the song to show off your vocal ablities or anything, but it was good. He sang the song _Rent_. And afterwards he just stomped right out of the room. His neck was all flushed too, I think he was embarassed beyond belief."

"But he did good?"

"Fantastic for a guy, especially considering he's trying out for a modern musical. I wish I had done something more modern, I probably wouldn't have done so well though, he has a lot of...on stage charisma."

"Do you li-i-i-i-ike him?"

"No! Mom! God!" I cringed, internally happy that that had been my first natural response, that meant I detested him as much as I had before I watched him give his performance.

"Just checking. I still haven't met the kid, unless you count me seeing him on stage at Romeo and Juliet your sophomore year, and Dean ushered us out of there too fast afterward for me to flirt with him."

"MOM!"

"He is a babe."

"He is a word that I shan't say." I kicked myself off the couch. "Tomorrow they put up the callback list, and then you have to actually read lines, and we don't get a chance to prepare, we do something called 'cold reading' where they just shove the script in your face and you're expected to suddenly be great."

"Cold reading?"

"Yeah, I borrowed two how-to books on it from the library, I'm going to read them tonight. Actually, I should get started on it now." I hurried out of the room, but not fast enough to hear mom sigh and say: "actors."

* * *

I pretended not to be nervous. I _had _to make callbacks. Before I hadn't intended to even make it into the play, or sing at the audition, it was strictly time to enjoy some eye candy. But then Rory was trying out! 

I talked to a few drama kids, they said that during rehersal times there were late night rehersals till 10 or later! All that time in the same theater with Rory? And, on top of that, it sounded like some fun. I mean, I'm in the limelight, my dad and mom will have to come to the shows at least for face, and on top of that...it actually looked like fun.

I looked over my shoulder. Sure I'd only _thought _that thought, but there was still a chance that someone might pick up the geeky thought in my head through ESP radar and post it all over the school walls.

I sauntered up through the crowd to the list. Anyone who made callbacks were initialing next to their name to show that they'd make it. Groans, cheers, and-surprisingly-tears were all present. The tears were both happy and unhappy.

I checked the list.

_Wow._

Not only had I made callbacks, I'd made callbacks for three parts! The part of Dallas (modern day Paris), Mark (modern day Mercrucio)and Ryan (modern day Romeo). I grinned.

Technically it was only callbacks for two parts because Sean Curtis was going to be Ryan, but it was still nice. I initialed next to each name and glanced over looking for Rory.

She had callbacks for two parts, Mrs. Murray (Lady Monteque, Romeo's mom) and Rachel (Romeo's first crush in the beginning, his cousin,Roseline). I glanced over the explanatory paragraph. Though callbacks didn't guarantee you a part in the play, you had a good chance at landing, at least, ensamble.

My callbacks were at 3:20. I got lucky, boys went first. I wouldn't have to wait forever.

I adjusted the strap on my backpack. Bowman hadn't made callbacks, Sean Curtis made callbacks for Ryan (not a surprise at all, considering he was practically guaranteed the part, chances are he'd already put it on his college resume), as well as Dallas (modern day Paris), Mark, Tyler, both the dads, and Duke (modern day Prince, the king of the land in the orginal, and the police officer of the city in the musical)

"Wow, Gilmore, you made it." Paris' tone was, as usual, clipped, sarcastic, and matter-of-fact. "You got two callbacks."

"Not for the leads right?"

"Well, Mrs. Murray I think has a bigger-than-minor part, but all you'd do as Rachel is dance around and look like you're playing-hard-to-get. You know, student council time better not suffer because you're off playing dress-up on stage."

"It won't." She promised.

I turned to see them on the outter fringe of the crowd. Paris initialed for Rory and the two left without seeing me. She looked pleasently surprised at the callbacks, considering the massive amount of girls that tried out, she should be proud.

I was definitely proud of her.

* * *

I arrived in the room early, clutching both books _Cold Reading for Dummies _and _What They _Really _Want in and Audition_. The boys were still on stage reciting their lines. No singing, thank god, was involved in the cold readings.

Tristan walked with an impressive humble nature. "Look Dude, I don't know what has gotten into me. I just met this chick, I don't think she's from around here because she was wearing nice clothes...but she was really...somethin'." He was talking to another guy who was reading for Mark (The play's comic relief and Ryan/Romeo's best friend.)

"I thought you were here to scope out Rachel. Didn't you want to hook up with her?"

"Yeah...that was the original plan. But I met this girl who _definitely _looked different from any girl that rolls around Westside." He scratched the back of his neck, looked over his shoulder. Those actions were obviously not stage directions on the page, they flowed too naturally. Tristan was _really _nailing this audition. He transformed. "Shocked" is putting it lightly.b

"Yeah, whatever. Let's go."

"I think she lives around here too." He was nailing it.

"That's what you get for wanting to come to the Eastside dance club, buncha rich snobs and no Rachel to show for it, c'mon man-let's roll."

There was a crisp clap. "Thank you Charlie, thank you Tristan." Miss Warren moved from the front seat of the audience. "You both did lovely, I'll have the cast list up tomorrow at lunch."

"Thank you, Miss Warren." They both said in unison.

He handed in the paperback script he'd been holding and his eyes found me standing in the back of the theater. Maybe it was just me, but I think he blushed.

* * *

I liked it instantly, the character of Ryan was really fun. I got "into character" as Miss Warren called it.

Everything was coming out naturaly, I felt like I had written the script because it all fit and I could see where everything had gone and the history.

I finished the scene and looked up.

_Of course._

When I was doing something I liked and making a completely "good little boy" fool out of myself, Rory had to be there to witness it. I mean, I know she likes tough guys, her last boyfriend was huge and wore a leather jacket! No way that a girl who dates a guy who is willing to fight me, wants a guy who is reading lines!

I looked around, _I gotta get out of here before she starts throwing my own smirks back at me._

I got off the stage and hurried down the aisle. I had to pass her, maybe if I went fast enough and didn't make eye contact she'd avoid me too. She did it enough times in the school halls right.

I power-walked down the row. As I passed her I pretended to see someone I knew over her shoulder.

"Good job Tristan." She said it as I brusquely shouldered by.

"Uh...Thanks." I said it quickly and quietly.

_Did she mean that sarcastically? _At first I thought so, I couldn't look back to see if she was smirking or something, but...it didn't _sound _sarcastic...did it?

I looked back, she was already talking to Miss Warren.

I rushed out the doors. But I was smiling the whole time.

* * *

"So, Ms. Gilmore, two audition callbacks. You'll be reading these two scenes. One with Julie, Mrs. Murrayand her governess after her cousin,Tyler,is shot in a gang fight. And the other as Rachel during the dance club scene."

I glanced over the parts. Neither seemed very fitting to me. I was more of a shyer character, Lady Capulet at the most. "How did I get this callback?"

"Your voice is good for both of their solos."

"They have solos?" I nearly snapped it out.

"Yes. Now, get on stage. Janet will be reading Julie and Kendalle will be reading the governess."

I blushed and shuffled on stage. I'm more of an ensamble girl myself. I'd seen the costume sketches for Rachel in the costume room when I passed by. She was supposed to be a four-alarm siren of a girl who Ryan was going for until he meets Julie. In the play she isn't mentioned much, but in the musical I guess she is in all the dance club scenes with a different guy. And there is some dialogue with Ryan too.

Mrs. Murray is Romeo's mom, she really only appears in the beginning to ask Barty (Ryan's cousin) why Romeo is so upset (it's because he's got a thing for Rachel and she wants nothing to do with him) and at the end to mourn her son's death.

Not that it's a huge surprise to ANYONE on the planet that Romeo/Ryan dies.

* * *

I stood in the back of the booth.

The light/sound booth is in the back of the theater, the glass is a tinted darkly so the audience can't see inside, it's also soundproof one way so the people inside can hear their cues for lighting or sound effects, but no one in the audience can hear the people inside cuing up.

The people inside are the "techies". The backstage crew who do prop shifts during blackouts, run the lights, wire the sound, stuff like that. Some people tell me that they get into the most trouble on the whole campus, they just never get caught. I know they're a tight knit bunch, with their inside jokes and the pranks they play on the actors closing night, but I've never really gotten to know them.

They were nice enough to let me stand in the back to watch the audition, since no boys were allowed in the theater during the girls' audition.

"Which one do you like?" One of the boys looked at me.

I shrugged lightly. "I like annoying Rory."

"She's really nice." He agreed.

"I didn't say I liked her, I said that I like ann-" I cut myself off when he gave methe'I'm not an idiot' look.

I watched her move around stage with ease. She was a little clumsy finding her place on the page with Mrs. Murray, but because Rachel's lines were so simple, snappy, and quick, she did good with those. She was having a hard time becoming the slight-slut of Rachel's character.

"I already know who is getting what part." The only girl in the room leaned foward. "Ten bucks says Jillian is Julie."

"And double or nothing says Sean Curtis is Ryan." One of the male, with flaming red hair, said it sarcastically and everyone in the booth laughed.

"I'll take that bet." The girl gave me a surveying once-over. "Tristan gets Dallas, Sean gets Tyler, Jillian gets Julie, _and _Rory gets Rachel."

"Sean is definitely getting Ryan, Jillian for Julie, Rory for ensemble, and Tristan gets Mark." The red-head stuck out his hand.

"Whoa, whoa, Rory isn't getting _Rachel_." I forced a laugh. As much as I would have loved to see her play the "show whore" she was way too innocent for Miss Warren to give her that kind of role. She'd be a bettter Julie!

"Yeah she is." The girl faced her, her eyes snapped happily with "I am always right" electricity. "You'll get Dallas or Tylerbecause even though you are a better actor than Sean, you can't sing one of the solos that was selected simply for Sean to sing as Ryan. You'll get Dallas or Tylerbecause you have the voice for it, and you already have the swagger, you won't even have to act. Jillian getting Julie is a gimmie, when you meet her you'll know why. Rory will get Rachel because her voice will totally rock for one of the solos, I heard Mrs. Fletcher say that in the hall, and I also add that-" She swung around. "I'll get A.S.M."

"What's that?"

"A.S.M. Assisstant Stage Manager." She clarified without looking at me.

All the guys roared in protest, laughing and taking bets among themselves.

I grinned slightly. I already liked the "tech-ies", they were tight knit. They knew where they were going, they knew people, they knew who to trust and not to.

"Kristen is the only girl techie, we don't count costume and make-up because they suck. She's the only one who has stuck it out." One of the boys explained. "A.S.M. is the person backstage on headset who tells us back here in the booth when everything onstage is clear and that they can turn on the lights for the next act."

"Yeah, so during blackouts, when we're moving props around,or changing a set, I can tell the people in the booth that everything is ready. Otherwise they might turn on the lights and only have the set is on stage." She grinned. "Like last year!"

The guys roared in laughter, sharing a private joke I had nothing to do with.

I grinned.

I liked it here.

* * *

**Hey you guys! Thank you so much for the reviews! Especially ones with what you liked about the story so I could elaborate on that, and what was dumb or unrealistic so I could justify the sitcom-ness:) Keep up the detailed reviews! They really help my writing!**

**Happy reading!**


	6. Now I Know We'll Have A Full House

**Biliberalquestionauthority**: Thanks! Yeah, the reason I made Kristen the only techie is because at my school there is only one female techie. (me!) We also have a huge theater program at my school, but all the girls are actors. It's really cool that you're an actress who is friends with the techies though, that's pretty hard to find so you must be uber cool!  
**Don't-ask**: I'm actually a techie as well, And I actually started by being the lightboard runner! lol. But yeah, the booth is the best place in the whole theater. Techies get to play pranks on the actors and have way more fun than the actors! Thanks for the review!  
**CJG6**: Thanks!  
**Kyizi**: You'll see:)  
**Roween**: thanks! I'm glad you liked Dealin' With It. It's my favorite out of the four stories I've posted here.  
**UnbirthdayGirl**: Snappy dialogue? lol! That totally just inspired a few lines!

My e.mail is if you ever want to drop me a line! Just put _fanfiction_ or _Behind the Curtain_ in the subject line so I don't delete it as a virus!

Right...on to the story:

* * *

I leaned against one of the black cabinents. 

"Why is everything black? And why do you guys always wear black?"

"Because we have to move things around in the dark and we don't want the audience to see us, and everything back here is black so that we don't distract from the audience." One of the guys leaned foward, his massive hair was a mop of curls and moved with him. "I'm Pat by the way."

"Hi." I looked around the room, it was a sweet little set-up. These guys even had a fridge hidden in the back. "Nice fridge."

"Oh." Kristen turned and looked at the fridge. "Sometimes we're here till 9-10 at night and we need stuff to eat." She grinned. "Don't tell Warren, she'd have our heads for food in the theater."

"Even though she smokes in here." The red-haired boy supplied.

"So, how long have you guys been tech-ing?" I asked, just to make conversation. Rory's turn was over and she wouldn't read the Mrs. Murray scene for a little while.

"I'm bitechual." Kristen piped up quickly.

I did a double take. _She's bi?_ She didn't look it.

"Bi-TECH-ual." She clarified, pleased with my shocked response. "I tech and act. I do improv acting." She grinned.

"And we're strait...strait techies. Just techies, acting is evil.I'm Nick by the way." The red haired guy selected a blue glass bottle from the fridge and took a huge gulp. It said Bawls on the side of it and it looked like Sprite.

"What's Bawls?"

"An energy drink, basically strait caffine." He burped quietly. "Yeah, we're pretty good people for actors to network with, they just don't know it. We'll watch your back." He promised.

"Yeah, and helpful hint number one is that Mrs. Fletcher is coming this way so you better jet." Kristen jerked her thumb to a ladder hidden in the corner that led up to the ceiling.

I scrambled up it and into a small cage above the theater. A spotlight was in it, and you could also take another ladder up to a catwalk. I listened quietly as Mrs. Fletcher gave them directions on some sound cues they were going to need for the show. I could see the whole theater from where I was perched. I was a little discomforted by the rickety creaking the cage made when I moved, but I could look out and see a whole network of catwalks around the top of the theater. Lights hung from then, stratigically lighting the stage.

I heard Mrs. Fletcher leave, and I climbed down the ladder. "Wow, I didn't know that stuff was up there."

"The spotlight cage is for the techies to do the spotlight, and we have to climb around on the catwalk just to hang lights and adjust them so we can hit our marks." Kristen was now drinking a Bawls as well. "Most actors don't know it's up here. You better get going though, Mrs. Fletcher has to come in and help us record some intermission music, she just went to go get it."

"Yeah. Thanks." I grinned slightly. I liked these people. They were good friends, one saw that instantly, and they didn't seem to care who I was at all either.

"Who knew we'd be talking to Tristan DuGrey?" Pat laughed.

I shrugged a shoulder. "Who knew I'd get to be in here?"

"Don't make yourself too comfortable!" Kristen grinned pleasently. "You'll get a big head soon enough. And when you do, you're outta here."

I smiled and closed the door behind me. I ducked out of the theater, through the lobby and into the parking lot, still smiling.

Not only that, I was thinking about the play. If I didn't make it into the play, I was going to be a techie. Definitely. I didn't care how uncool some people might label me, it sounded amazing. Talking over headset, hanging out in the "booth", playing pranks on the actors? And, it would be a chance to be around Rory.

_Rory._

I still hadn't decided if she was being sarcastic or not. The context would make it seem like she was. I mean, me, getting into acting and enjoying it? It was enough ammo to fend me off till we graduated and then some, but her tone actually sounded sincere.

She was more confusing than I am.

* * *

I fidgeted a little and leaned against the wall. Everyone was crowded against the list screaming, squealing about what was on it. 

It was the cast list. I hadn't looked at it, I couldn't. I was too nervous. Which was surprising considering I didn't even WANT to try out. Now all I wanted was to have my name on the list.

I had horrifically slaughtered my audition. I didn't sound seductive as Rachel, I sounded like a bad phone hooker. And I didn't sound motherly as Mrs. Murray either, I sounded like the only mother I knew, and _my _mom was certainly not what Ms. Warren was looking for.

"_Tristan!" _Bowman cuffed Tristan's shoulder, I could see them right in front of the list. "Way to flippin' go man."

_What is he?_

Tristan shrugged a shoulder as if he knew he was going to get whatever part he got. Then sauntered out of the throng of students toward where I stood.

"Hey Mary, did you look at the list?" He stopped and smiled, almost pleasently, at me.

"Uh...no, not yet, how did you do?"

"I'm afraid I can't say without a drumroll and my backup music guy called in sick today."

I slipped more comfortably into the sarcastic banter. "Too bad. And I was so looking forward to the bathroom music they plan when you go into the little boy's room. It always gets stuck in my head for the whole period."

He grinned. "I'm Dallas, Julie's rightful lover." His grin spread a little bigger. "I get to die on stage."

"Well, now I know we'll have a full house."

He smirked. "You'll be fake dead, I'll be there to spread petals onyou, and then _bam _Sean Curtis comes out of no where with an Uzi. Wow, life _is _unfair."

I grinned slightly. Then it froze. "What do you mean you're going to spread petals on me?"

He chuckled slowly. And walked away.

I hurried to the list, pushed my way to the front and my breath caught in my throat.

_I was Julie_.

There was my name, right under Sean Curtis. "**Rory Gilmore...Julie Currey (Juliet Capulet)"**

_I'd made the LEAD_. I nearly screamed. One part of me couldn't believe that my first play had cast me as a lead! The second part was absolutely horrified at the thought. I didn't even have a CALLBACK for Julie! And on top of that, I had ruined my callbacks for the lesser characters

My eyes scanned down the page. **"Tristan DuGrey...Dallas (Paris)" **He hadn't lied about that either.

"Miss Gilmore, our rising star." Miss Warren materialized next to me. "Surprised?"

"I didn't even have a callback for her!" I managed.

"I know, but you're so innocent and nieve, you won't even have to act to nail Julie perfectly. And the girl who we had originally thought could be Julie said she had so many AP classes that she wanted a lesser part-so Lisa Jannis got Rachel. And you'll do marvelously. And I know your form said you haven't danced much, but Sean can always dance around you."

"Well, thank you so much. This is amazing!"

"I know you're shy, but you'll pick it up quickly." She winked. "And you'll get to kiss Sean and _Tristan_! What a perk."

My heart leaped into my throat. "I what?"

"Remember, you kiss Sean at the party and the end scene. And Tristan kisses you several times because he's your boyfriend according to your parents." She smiled sweetly and waltzed away.

I suddenly felt numb in every part of my entire body.

I'd forgotten that part.

* * *

**Hey Everyone, hope you liked the chapter. I got someone to Beta for me, so I hope it's a little easier to pick through. Because I got such amazingly positive feedback about them, I'm going to make the techies a bigger character than I planned on. Thanks for the reviews! They keep me writing!**


	7. I'd Love to Captivate Her

**SOOOO sorry it took me so long to update! I lost my password and couldn't log on. I just found itfive minutes ago and immidiatly uploaded this chapter! Forgive me! Forgive me:)**

* * *

The first read through of the play was today after school. We'd be given our scripts and do a cold reading of the entire play. I bounced my food tersely. A million feelings were bursting, like comets, through my mind. I glared at my American History notes and glanced over where Sean Curtis was sitting across the room. I had never even noticed he was _in _my study hall period until a few days ago.

He wasn't looking at me, of course, he was concentrating on the doodles in front of him. He had gotten Romeo, and who could blame Warren for casting him? In some sense I should be glad he got the part, with his great voice he could easily sing around me and make my tone deaf-ness much less noticeable.

_He really does have a fabulous voice. _

After his audition I had "Music of the Night" stuck in my head for hours, I even went out and borrowed Ms. Patty's _Phantom of the Opera _soundtrack and played it on repeat for three hours while I did my homework.

I'd additionally borrowed her _RENT _soundtrack. The music was heavily peppered in curses and innuendo, but it was smart and clever, and I liked it. I listened through it till I found the song that Tristan had done, I was surprised by how accurate his rendition was.

"Mr. Curtis, congratulations on being cast as Romeo." Mr. Potter, the overseer walked by Sean's desk.

"Yeah, Ryan is modern day Romeo." Sean agreed amiably. It wasn't egotistic, but it wasn't look forward to seeing you."

"You'll see Rory too. She got Julie." Sean jerked his thumb over to where I was watching. I pretended I hadn't been watching them. I didn't even know Sean knew I was in the class.

"Rory! Who knew you were a thespian!" Mr. Potter grinned too wide. He looked like he was laughing inside.

"All the world's a stage." I offered weakly.

"Indeed, indeed!"

The bell rang and I gathered my things quickly. Sean walked by my desk as he headed out the door. "See you at the read through, Ror." He sauntered out.

* * *

I dropped my head as I stuffed everything in my backpack. _Ror? _It sounded like "roar". Very…she-man. I didn't like it. But still, Sean Curtis giving me a nickname was kind of flattering. I almost felt like name dropping.

"An after school read through?" Bowman asked doubtfully.

"Well I do have a lot of lines blockhead."

"I can't believe you tried out for the play."

"Say that to late night character analysis with Warren." I wiggled my eyebrows as I closed my locker. "Bid me good luck gentleman because I'm off to become a star."

"I'm _waiter #2 _so I doubt I have to be there." Bowman attempted a nonchalant smirk, but it came off more like a grimace.

I felt guilty for a second. Bowman was the one that wanted this, not me.

"Um, later." I grabbed my things and headed to the theater. We were supposed to assemble on stage.

I walked through the doors and grabbed a script on the nightstand on the way in. The strange thing about the theater is you'll find random props all over it. During auditions I looked at Dracula cape hanging over an1800s wheelchair and a Viking hat thrown lazily atop a bale of hay.

"DuGrey, lovely of you to grace us with your presence." Sean Curtis was already there. _Surprise, surprise. _

"Yeah, I'll give you a signed photograph after the read through." I sat down. All the chairs had been arranged into a large circle on the stage. Obviously it was meant to make us "bond." I pushed one of the chairs next to me in front so I had a footrest, and spread out comfortably.

"Ror!" He dismissed my comment airily and smiled, full frontal grin, to Rory "Mary" Gilmore as she floated in the door. He gestured to the chair next to him and she obligingly sat down. _At least she don't look thrilled to be there. _

Rory paused hesitantly and offered him a tight, nervous grin. "Is Miss Warren here yet?"

"No, she had to make copies of the rehearsal calendar." Kristen walked in. She gazed us all over.

"Hi guys." She said crisply. "I'm props crew head for this show and anything not nailed down to the stage is what I'm in charge of. Ms. Warren is going to be late so she asked that I start you guys going. Is everyone here?"

"Yes." "Yeah." "Dunno" "I think so".

"Good. Open to page 1."

I opened the book, and some boys I didn't know started their lines. I looked at Rory across the circle. Her eyes followed along, darting across the page and paying complete attention. I watched her for what seemed like hours, more and more lines. She didn't even blink, she was "in the zone".

I cleared my throat subtly. She glanced up and locked eyes with me.

I grinned and mouthed "Hi."

She paused, surprised. "Hi" she mouthed back.

"That's your line, Tristan." Sean snapped.

I grinned at him and turned to the pretty girl next to me. "What page?"

"Twenty four."

I flipped through it, taking my time, then scanned down to the line. "Mr. Capulet, your daughter Julie is by far the prettiest girl in the school. Don't you agree?"

"Of course I do!" The boy playing Capulet agreed.

"I'd like to take her to senior homecoming. I'm Homecoming prince by the way."

"Really? That's fascinating. I'd love for her to go with someone so obviously popular and captivating with his fellow students."

"And I'd love…" I looked up from the script and caught eyes with Rory. "To captivate her."

* * *

**I'm sorry it's so short, but I wanted to get an update up ASAP and apoligize for my lack of updates!**

**-Thought's Pen**


	8. First Rehearsal

I thought had been a pretty smooth move. In a movie or TV show, there would have been choruses of "Awws" and other girlish sentiments. But of course…I was with theater kids. Kids who thrive on drama and know the difference between planned and spontaneous bursts of lines.

"God Tristan." Kristen muttered in a more-than-audible whisper.

Everyone tittered and Sean Curtis shot me a smug look. It wasn't a smirk, he isn't capable of attempting any lofty expressions but he had that smug self-satisfied look that actors tend to have.

The read through ran quickly, when we got to the part where the characters kiss, Rory refused to make any type of eye contact.

"C'mon Mar." I said, 'breaking character', "it isn't like we've never- " Then I stopped like there was some big secret and glanced over at Sean Curtis.

_Finally _I'd hit a nerve.

"This is a rehearsal, not a _Playboy _interview." He snipped tersely.

"Come now Curtis, what would _you _know about a _Playboy _interview? You have to be capable of growing facial hair before the 7-11 clerk will sell you something like that."

I was rewarded by a ripple of snickers, and I looked back down at my script.

* * *

"The End." Kristen cried triumphantly.

She slammed her copy of the script shut. "Remember, you have costume fittings this week. Just come by the costume room any time during lunch of after school till 4:30 because Amanda has to get all those costumes sorted out and ready _before _the dress rehearsals."

The typical hum of zippers, cell phones turning on, and conversations filled the empty stage as everyone started to leave. I had one mission, to get out before he got to me.

But of course, that wasn't going to happen. He sauntered over and leaned against the wall next to my chair as I finished writing down the last of the blocking that Kristen had shouted as the rehearsal moved on. He didn't say anything, which made it more awkward. I wasn't sure if I should tell him to bug off - admitting that I knew he was standing behind me, or not say anything and let him watch me. Who was going to speak first this time?

I avoided eye contact unsuccessfully.

He grinned at me. "You were great, babe."

"Still in character I see." I managed. "You stop becoming an overtly pompous jerk after rehearsal is over and go back to being Tristan the…oh wait…never mind." I turned to stalk out.

"Whoa, whoa. Behave yourself,Mar!"He smiled."I really am a martyr, being so nice when you're so biting. Just to show what a Christian I am,let me drive you home."

At least here I was on familiar turf.

"First off, I live in the _completely _opposite direction than where you live. Secondly, I take the bus because it gives me time to read and in your car I think any book with any thoughtful or educational value would implode on contact, and thirdly, that would require me to spend time with you." I rattled it out quickly and matter-of-factually.

He smiled a little. "Nicely done." I smiled a little too, despite myself. While I know he's an arrogant jerk...there's something very contagious about smiling. He smiled. I smiled.

So did, I noticed over Tristan's shoulder, Sean Curtis.

"Mary, that was so spontaneous and cute."

"I think what she means." Sean came over and grinned brightly. "Is that she doesn't want to go any where _with you_."

Tristan swiveled to face Sean and raised an eyebrow. Sean took it as some type of challenge and took a step forward.

It occurred to me at that moment that high school has so many kinds of popular. In the movies it's the smart golden boy, sports jock, the bad boy, the player, and the drama lead. Yet it never occurred to me what kind of confrontation would occur when two of the popular boys were actually on each other's turf.

With the different cliques and the space for the few "kings" to rule a campus, they needn't run in to each other. It occurred to me that the bad boy player had invaded another man's turf. By being in the school play, one of them would be forced to be second and one of them would come out on top.

"Did you know that one in three actors in New York City are gay?" Tristan asked sweetly.

Sean's shoulders puffed up and he moved closer to Tristan, opening his mouth for some type of retort. People stopped and watched.

"I, however, am not gay and would hope you could respect my personal bubble. I'm really not interested in an STD."

Sean's mouth gaped in surprised, then moved to form a comeback. His script dropped from his hand and I think he might have hit Tristan, but Tristan doesn't fight with fists.

"And I will _not _bend over and pick that up for you." Tristan smirked grandly. He looked toward me. "See ya around Mary."

And he walked away.

I held back a smile. As much as I don't like Tristan, and as nice as Sean Curtis has been to me, seeing _anyone _cut down is always semi-amusing in the least.

"I'm not gay." Sean managed.

I heard Tristan's mirthful chuckle as he closed the door behind him. The laugh was conjoined by everyone else shuffling out of the room.

"Good comeback Sean." Kristen was stacking the chairs. "Right up there with _Your Mom_."

"What do you know _techie_. Actors don't need techies."

"Without techies." Kristen glanced up idly. "Actors would be naked men standing in the dark trying to emote."

It really wasn't Sean's day for comebacks. It felt a little bad for him really. He did live in a world where everything he said was scripted, and everything said to him was both expected and usually to build his own character up.

"Yeah, well what about theatre in Ancient Greece? They didn't have stage lights then, and all theater was nude."

"And who provided the light then?" She smiled sweetly. "That's right Sean, _God _did."

Sean ignored her and turned to me. "Can I give you a ride home Rory? I don't know you that well and I find it's easier to get into character with someone if I know them personally."

"Smooth Sean." A red haired boy entered the stage carrying some stage lighting equipment. "Now ask her what her sign is."

I grinned. Really, these techie people were ten times wittier than Tristan. Sean just didn't look like the lead of any school play with these guys cutting him down skillfully.

"Look, was I talk to you?" He shot back.

"It's ok, my mom is expecting me on the bus anyway." I turned slightly to go. "It was nice reading with you though."

"Let me walk you out then." He glanced over his shoulder at Nick and Kristen and walked with me towards the door.

As we walked out I heard Nick and Kristen laugh louder.

"Hey Sean!" Kristen called after him. "How do you get an actor off your front porch?"

"Pay him for the pizza!" She crooned.

I smiled slightly despite myself and glanced at Sean with a quick sidelong look. His jaw was set. "Techies really are just want to be actors." He assured me.

"I can't really image that Kristen girl wanting to act."

"She's a RAT. Rejected Actor Techie." He prided himself happily in the cleverness of the acronym I doubt he invented.

"I see."

"This play is gonna be weird though. Having Tristan at the rehearsals I mean. He really is a jerk." He said it casually even though it was laced with meaning.

"He's not all that bad, he just has his moments. He's just cocky."

"The theater has no room for cockiness." Sean said loftily.

I had to bite back a laugh.

* * *

**Yes yes! I know! I'm a bad person! I just became so...I don't know what I became. But someone read one of my stories and left a comment, when I got and it reminded me how much I love GG! (and Tristan and Logan). Heehee. Anyway, thank you for the comments, that's what made me write this chapter!**

**r/r!**


	9. A Bigger Jerk Than I Knew

**Thanks for R/Ring you guys! Especially those of you that give me feedback! **

**I die without you: haha! "Rent" fans for life! (Plus, 'Without You' is a great song too, 'Finale B' and 'Take me or Leave Me' are my favorites) **

**BLiberalQuestionAuthority: Techie pride! Yeah. We brought a fridge into the theatre and put a padlock onto it so that the actors can't steal our drinks. An entire fridge of Bawls Energy Drink? It's insane. Cherry coke? I should try that.**

* * *

I watched them walk out of the theater. They were out of ear shot, so I couldn't listen. I just watched them. I was leaning against the door, they had passed right by – but neither had looked behind them so neither noticed me. I watched them leave through the back door. 

In my attempt at a cool, collected exit – I hadn't grabbed my backpack. It kind of would have ruined the flow to run across the stage and grab it and then exit smoothly. I try not to look rehearsed in stuff like that – but you do have to realize one has to go back for things like backpacks eventually.

I slid into the theater and glanced toward the stage. All the actors had left, but some of the stage crew were setting up.

"Oh, is this backpack yours then?" A heavy set girl pointed to where my backpack had been carelessly caught.

"Of course it is Amanda, it's the only bag big enough to keep all those condoms." Kristen's voice came from above.

I looked up and she hopped down gracefully.

"Where were you?"

"In the light portals." She made a face. "What, do you think that the light techs only flip on and off a light switch?"

I actually had no idea what a light tech did, so I deferred. "Um, thanks." I grabbed my backpack and slid it over my shoulder.

"Oo! An actor. What _shall _we do with him?" I think his name was Pat, he had a fro. A white boy with a fro. I had to smirk at that again.

"Tie him up and eat him." Nick, the red head, shot me a teasing grin.

"But of course." Another came in from the wings. He was wearing a tool belt and carrying a power drill. I got a chance to look at what he'd been doing. A false door was standing in the middle of the set and he had been making the hinges move back and forth. _Who knew?_

"Shuddup carpenter." Pat turned and picked up a stage light from the floor and ascended a ladder to climb it.

I had moved slightly to leave, but laughed gently. In all the posh circles I run around in, I'd never run into these theater kids.

There's something about Chilton that's very sitcom. There's a lot there I like, the party scene, the easily-controlled drama etc. But that comradeship isn't there. Cliques are clans in friend form.

"There's kind of an ongoing battle between the set crew and the light crews and sound crews." Kristen explained dryly as she started to sweep some sawdust off the stage. "But as set crew is the best." She shot a look to the other techies, "it doesn't really matter."

"Yep." Pat glanced over at me. "Hey Tristan, do you know why the sound techies say 'test one, two?"

I grinned. "Why?"

"Because if they could count to three they'd be a light tech." He roared contentedly at his own joke and I had to smile a little.

"And same for set crew!" Nick agreed jovially.

"_Ah Contrair_." Kristen, donning her tool belt, "On three, we _lift_."

I watched the buzz of activity around me and didn't feel very cool. It wasn't that these kids had money or popularity, I'd never even seen half of them before. But they really didn't seem to care.

"So what's the deal with Sean Curtis?" I swallowed my pride and asked. "

They laughed.

"Because she's fresh meat." Amanda began threading a needle and adding ratty patches to a denim jacket.

"He picks a new girl every show." Pat began slowly, glancing at the others for confirmation.

"Basically he's the theatre version of you." Nick shot airly.

It kind of sucked that he was right. I didn't even get to be judgmental.

"Well, yes and no." Pat frowned. "At least with a jerk like _you_." He smiled wryly at me, "girls know what they're getting into. You never pretend to want a long distance relationship or stuff like that. Sean Curtis, Sean, however, makes a girl think…" He trailed off and glanced at Amanda.

She looked up from her sewing and shrugged a shoulder "He's never seen her before, she's pretty. And he likes the chase. He picks up the new girl at every show." Amanda glanced up where Kristen was creating a false door. She didn't look back.

"I see."

"A big star's sincerity is like the ultimate pick up line." Kristen said tersely, still not turning to face us. "And who can say 'No' to a guy that can serenade you with "Music of the Night"?" She stood slowly and walked behind the door where I couldn't see her.

I looked around, but no one met my eye contact. I didn't know why yet, but I knew then that Sean Curtis was a bigger jerk than I knew.

* * *

We were sitting at the bus stop waiting for my bus. He was waiting for me under the explanation that there are "so many serial rapists around Chilton!"

"So, how'd you get into drama?" I had made the mistake of asking.

Fifteen minutes later he hadn't taken a breath so I just leaned back against the advertisement of Krispy Kreme donuts and listened to everything from vocal lessons by someone famous and dance lessons by someone famous. Famous, famous, famous. What is it with this world and everyone thinking they can be SO DAMN FAMOUS?

_Why does everyone want to be famous?_

He was still talking, but I stopped listening and waited patiently for my bus.

"Well, wuddya think?"

Shoot. I'd missed the question. I blinked and he stared intently at me, waiting for my response.

"Well, what do _you_ think?" I managed slowly.

He launched off in another tirade against the actors union and I let out a breath.

He was so boring. So scripted. I felt like I was on a dumb talk show. He was a walking infomercial of himself. Adorable, talented and dull. The triple threat…

"I'm surprised I haven't gotten to know you until now." He said, after wrapping up an in depth explanation of how his stage name is going to be Sean J. Curtis because someone else famous is named Sean Curtis and in the actors union no two actors can have the exact same name.

_WHERE IS MY BUS?_

"Well, I like my alone time. And I don't live around here really so I'm not part of the…thriving social scene."

The door of the school behind us opened and Tristan jogged out. He slowed down as he passed us, but instead of stopping, he just loped casually to his car, slid in, and drove away.

"Maybe he'll stop bothering you." Sean smiled at me.

"Yeah…" I looked after his headlights, confused, "maybe."

* * *

**Authors Notes: Hey guys! Well, I'm back, so hopefully I'll be updating much more frequently now that it's summer. **

**Thanks especially to Emily, i die without you, tangozgirlscount, Kat86, Lov23, and BliberalQuestionAuthority for the helpful feedback! And thanks _everyone _who commented,I wouldn't write here without you guys.**

**Question: I know that the techies aren't in the show and they're kind of just my characters, do you guys mind? Or should I make them a lesser character?**


	10. Happy Endorphins

"So basically you're a virginal lover." Mom laughed. "Great."

I frowned. "Are you going to read these lines with me or not?"

"No! Talk to me about this Sean Curtis. I saw _Phantom of the Opera _I know he's better looking without the Phantom deformed stage make up!"

I shifted my weight on the couch. "Well…I…"

"What?"

"He's so not like Dean. And he's not even like Tristan."

"Tristan? Why is Bible Boy falling into this name category?"

"Well, I'm just saying that he's cocky which is not like Dean. But he's got something to **_be _**cocky about."

"So you're saying you don't like him because he's not like an annoying guy you hate and an ex boyfriend?" Mom laughed a little harder and chomped down on her toast.

I frowned. She was right. Plus…while he may be boring at times, it was pretty flattering to get all this attention from Sean.

Seriously, can you blame me? I know this sounds bad, but I'm never judgmental of those girls in the movies who get swept away by some of the popular guys. Not the jerky ones, but, like the muscle heads. Can you _seriously _blame them? If a GQ Fashion Plate was your boyfriend, you wouldn't have to listen to him, you could just _look _at him.

Sean was kind of cool to look at anyway.

"Look, if you're not going to run lines with me." I shot back, "then I have some human bio essay questions to work on."

"Can you get his autograph? He could be the next Norbert Leo Butz." Mom really doesn't _care _about the star of _Wicked _she just finds juvenile pleasure in the fact that someone has the last name Butz and a double-whammy of a first name of Norbert.

"Really." I winced. "If _my _last name was Butz I wouldn't procreate."

Mom nodded soberly. "I totally agree. _Gilmore _on the other hand…" She waltzed out of the room.

I snagged the phone and called Paris, she knows everything about the liver and I needed some more notes. I settled back on the couch, curling my toes underneath me and I grabbed my Human Bio notes.

"What!"

I don't know why, or how, Paris manages to answer the phone with "What!". It isn't even her personal cell phone, it's her _parents' _phone. And her parents are rich! These people probably have other rich people calling them.

"Paris, you have a maid that irons your newspaper for you. Can't they answer the phone? With something other than "_what" _perhaps?"

"Oh puh-_leeze_. If a family has money they can do whatever the heck they want." She snapped. "Tristan DuGrey is living proof of that."

With Paris, every conversation somehow included Tristan. This was one of the few times I didn't mind though.

"Yeah, Tristan's in the school play with me."

"Yeah. I wonder how he'll and _Sean _will get along." She snorted bitterly. Paris is one of the few people that don't like Sean Curtis. See, she's going insane trying to get into Harvard and she calls college "the c-word", and this guy has been waltzing around for two years under the confirmation of a full scholarship no matter _what _his GPA is as long as he doesn't lose his voice.

"Yeah, they aren't exactly painting each other's toenails after rehearsals."

"Well, Tristan's only doing this show so he can screw Ms. Warren." Paris muttered.

I paused. I hadn't thought of that. Of course! _Why else would Tristan be in a school musical?_

Paris listened to my silence for an extra moment. "You did_ know _that didn't you Rory Gilmore. Come ON, do you think _he _was trying to pad his college resume?"

A shocked, angry…and somehow disappointed feeling bubbled up in me. Of course - _Miss Warren._ In fact, he was probably in her apartment right now. He always did go after girls like her.

_Sean Curtis may be dull. But at least he's nice._

And dull.

_

* * *

_

"A five, six – five, six, seven eight!"

Miss Warren was working on the club scene where Julie meets Ryan. I had already made my exit and nowwatched lazily from the audience...or "house". I don't know why they called the audience part the "house". I don't get that.

Despite her idiotic behavior in real life, Miss Warren is really great at what she does. She's choreographing the entire show by herself.

There's a spotlight on Sean Curtis, leaning against a bar counter, and a spotlight on Rory, standing with a group of girls. This is the part where I go to the bathroom or something so that she can meet him.

I leaned against the wall watching everyone dance on the "dance floor" that was between Sean and Rory. Ikind of liked the idea of a huge mass of people always being between them.They hadn't seen each other yet because everyone was doing the "Thriller" dance. Don't ask how that fits it.

"Cause this is _Thriller_, Thriller Night.  
And no one's gonna save you from the Beast about to strike  
You know it's thriller, thriller night…"

Everyone was trying to look like Michael Jackson, and it was actually kind of amusing. I'd never gone to see any of the Chilton Theatre Company shows, so I was a little surprised.

"Now Sean, at the downbeat of the eighth bar, you see her." Miss Warren shouted over the thumping music. "Julie, you don't see him yet."

They launched into this semi-laughable dance where he tries to get through the dance floor over to where she is. I think under normal circumstances it would have been acceptable in the theatre. _However_ it was Sean Curtis doing this dance, the biggest over-actor known in the Broadway community, and he had these intense facial expressions that just made me bust out laughing.

"I know." Steven, one of the set techies came up next to me holding a power drill. "We say that he's part of the everglade fairy forest when he does that." He winked and walked backstage.

The music ended and everyone looked expectantly at Warren. She stuck her tongue in the side of her cheek, as she does when she thinks. "Again I think."

They all groaned, and I hopped back on stage, since it's my line that starts the song. I settled on the seat next to Rory.

"Miss me?" I smiled at her.

"You Hear The Door Slam And Realize There's Nowhere Left To Run" She quoted without looking at me.

I affected a frown and she didn't smile.

"Excuse me, did I do something wrong?" I whispered.

"Why should I care what you do _ever_?" She retorted.

"Quiet on set!" Miss Warren called. "Scene!" The lights went down and came back up, signifying that we were now "acting".

"So, having a good time?" I asked casually.

"Um, yeah."

"Aren't you glad I took you out?"

"Um, yeah."

"Wanna dance?"

"Actually, could you just get me a soda?"

"Yeah, totally. Be right back." I exited stage right and went back into the audience as the thumps of "Thriller" had begun. I know, the words are pure poetry. Awards will be hailed on the witty dialogue that is Julie and R-Man.

* * *

"Ok, everyone take 20." Miss Warren finally agreed. Everyone slumped on the floor, not even bothering to go for their water bottles. I was pretty glad I wasn't in that dance number. It involved a great deal of jumping. 

Tristan came out from backstage. He sauntered over.

"How's it going?"

"Fine." I didn't even look at him. I knew he wanted me too. But I was tired from _watching _all that dancing, and tired from holding my lips together and not laughing every time Sean danced through the lines of people singing "Thriller" to get to me.

"Hungry?"Tristan offered me part of a Hershey bar he was eating.

Of course I was. And it was a big chocolate bar. And it was screaming _PLEASE EAT ME!_

"No." I said shortly.

"Did you know that chocolate releases endorphins, which give one the feeling of being in love?" He asked coyly. "Did you know that?"

I didn't respond. I actually did know that. I'd spent the entire night reviewing the human bio section on the chemistry of love the night before. In fact, I knew everything about love endorphins.

"Come on Ror, don't you know anything about being in love?" He tilted his head and tried to get me to look at him. He was really cute when he did that. If you didn't hear what he was saying, and you didn't know what a completely JERK he was in real life, you'd seriously swoon.

I finally faced him. His smiled widened a little that I was finally admitting he was really there.

"When two people are attracted to each other, a virual explosion of adrenaile-like neurochemicals gush forth. Fireworks explode and we see stars. PEA or phenylethylamine is a chemical that speeds up the flower of information between nerve cells."

He blinked confusedly. I didn't stop.

"Also, involved in chemistry are dopamine and norepinephrine, chemical cousins of amphetamines. Dopamine makes us feel good and norepinephine stimulates the production of adrenaline. That's what makes the heart race."

He blinked again.

"These three chemicals combine to give us infatuation of "chemistry." It is why new lovers feel euphoric and energize and float on air."

He opened his mouth to say something. But I cut him off. So I guess I do know a lot about love, DuGrey."

* * *

Ok. Now how was I supposed to respond to _that_? Is she _allowed _to just DO that? I didn't even know what norepinephine….norepinpine…nortepndkj….AAAAA! 

"I have no idea…" I began meekly.

"And actually." She snapped even more coldly. She squared off the face me.

"Maybe you know more about all this than you know Tristan. Because these Love Junkies also have one other problem. The body builds up a tolerance to these chemicals. Then it takes more and more chemistry to bring that special feeling of love. They crave the intoxication of chemistry and infatuation. Many adults go through life in a series of six-month of three-year relationships. If these love junkies stay married, they are likely to seek affairs to fuel their chemical highs."

_Wait what? _I opened my mouth in some type of protest, though I don't know what might have come out.

"And since you can't go out with a girl for more than six hours, I don't even want to _know _how chemically unbalanced you are!" She folded her arms.

I opened my mouth. Then closed it again.

"So, no, I don't want any freaking chocolate."

This wasn't just annoyed Rory. This was angry Rory.

"Rory, did I do something _wrong?"_

"How about 'Rory did I do something _right?_' because that list would be much shorter."

I frowned. "Seriously, Mary, did I-"

"Tristan!" Miss Warren called sweetly. "Do you want to go over your lines?"

"Your happy endorphins are calling." She snapped, and stomped off.

_Wait…what?_


	11. He's A Madman

I waited at the bus stop. I was annoyed at Miss Warren for deciding I needed voice lessons during lunch. I was annoyed at Sean Curtis for kissing me during rehearsal even though Ms. Warren said he didn't need to start until the dress rehearsals. I was annoyed at Tristan for being alive. I was annoyed.

Sean had some type of amazing theater experience to go to right after rehearsal, so he didn't offer me a ride home. Tristan was still in the theater getting his costume fitted. I was annoyed.

The bus was late and my human bio notes were still as messy as ever. And Paris had started some sort of abbreviation system in her notes, but she didn't leave a key so I had no idea what "kd" or "dk" meant. And "fu" seemed to be scrawled all over the margins, what did "fu -_Oh...F.U.__ Got it. _I was annoyed.

I was annoyed that Tristan was in the play so that he could flirt with Miss Warren. And I was mad that I was too blind to see it. And I was mad that I was mad about all that to begin with. Why should I care? Was I so nieve that I wanted a guy with no morals to have morals?

I was annoyed.

* * *

"What…exactly…is he doing?" Kristen was leaning against the sound booth wall watching me type furiously on the computer they had stashed back behind the microphone cables. I was beginning to realize that they had _everything _stashed somewhere in the theatre. There was a rumor I heard from some of the actors that they had a a hidden room or something - but I think _that _was taking it a little too far. 

"I don't know." Nick sipped his energy drink delicately. "He's a mad man."

"Actor gone to your head?" Kristen asked teasingly as she sketched some prop drawings out on a pad.

"Tell me about Sean Curtis." I said, not looking up from the computer screen.

Kristen frowned. "Get a life Tristan. Really." She left the booth in strides. I tore my gaze from the screen to watch her slam out into the lobby.

I looked to Nick. "What's with her?"

He shrugged a shoulder gaily. "What's there to say, really?"

"Why does he have it in for Rory?"

"Well, partly because she's new and he's quite strait. And partly because you like her and he probably hates you. But mostly because it's for his ego. He has this thing with dating the lead."

I hit print on the computer and glanced over at him. "Do you know why Rory is so mad at me?"

He laughed and opened another energy drink. "I can think of a couple reasons. Yeah."

I printed out my paper and studied it a moment. The type was pretty long, but I knew I'd have it all memorized by rehearsal tomorrow.

I grinned and then I looked up at them. "Hey - do you really have a hidden bedroom here?"

Nick took another long draught of his drink. "Where do you think little techies come from?" He winked.

I laughed. "I'll see you guys later." I dashed out of the room, already studying the paper.

Pat glanced over at Nick. "He's crazy."

"Yep."

* * *

Everyone was loitering idly in "the house". I really don't know why they call it "the house". Can't they just call it the audience-part-of-the-theater? The theatre seriously felt the need to rename everything in the world that already has a name. You can't call a wall on stage a wall, it's called a "flat". The hole beneath the stage is called the "pit", the practice room off stage is called the "Green Room". Seriously, _who _came up with "The Green Room"? It's not even green! 

Today only the girls were called for rehearsal, we were working on the Nanny and Julie scenes and the dance party blocking and some of the female only solos. I sat in the back waiting for rehearsal to start while pouring over some of my history cliff notes.

The back door opened, and I turned to see who had come in, expecting to greet Ms. Warren.

It was Tristan. I groaned. _Great._

He glanced over the house and stage, apparently looking for something - then his eyes locked on me and he made a beeline over.

* * *

I walked strait to her. I wanted her to know that I was only here to see her. I still didn't know _why _she was so upset with me. But I really didn't care right now. 

"What?" She snapped.

_Ok. Here it goes._

* * *

He took in a deep breath and looked strait into my eyes. 

"Some people do become veritable love junkies. They need the excitement of chemistry to feel happy about and intoxicated by life. Once this initial rush of chemical wanes, the relationship crumbles and they are off again, seeking another."

He was quoting back at me. I frowned. _What was he after this time?_ And did he just say _veritable?_

He took another deep breath. "But."

_But?_

"When this infatuation subsides, a new group of chemicals take over. This new tupe of chemical reward is created by endorphins. These morphine-like opiates calm and reassure with intimacy, _dependability, _warmth and shared experiences. Not as exciting or as stressful as PEA," he bit his bottom lip, "but steadier and more addictive.

He'd memorized all this?

"The longer two people are together, the more likely it is that they'll stay married. In part, they become addicted to the endorphins and marital serenity. It is the absence of endorphins that make long time partners yearn fro each other when apart. Absent endorphins also play a part in grief if the girl…" he tilted his head slightly and took another breath, "won't spend time with him."

I blinked in surprise.

He tossed a King Size Hershey bar with almonds into my hands. "See ya Mar."


	12. Touche

There's something about chocolate that makes everything ok. Of course there is the whole chemistry side of it, with the endorphins and such. But then there is also the taste, the way is melts on your tongue so fast it's like a National Geographic time lapse. Then the way it sticks neatly, lining your throat and the eater finds their happy place.

_It must be the chocolate. _

Yeah.

_It has nothing to do with the fact that _Tristan _gave me this chocolate. It's just the fact that it's _chocolate

Unfortunately I couldn't even convince myself of that.

I sat in the audience, slowly eating the chocolate. The Hershey bars with almonds are so much better than the original Hershey bars because they're thicker. I sucked on a piece, a chocolate eating technique that Mom had taught me to make things taste better.

"Hey Ror." The voice had a practiced timbre that no one else I've ever met can achieve

"Hi Sean Curtis."

"You could just call me Sean, or Curtis." He sat down next to me.

"Your two names go together. Like Tom Cruise. They just fit together and can't be said apart." I offered him a piece of the chocolate bar.

"Oh, no thanks. Chocolate is awful for the throat. I never touch the stuff." He put both hands behind his head and leaned back comfortably. "So, you're comparing me to Tom Cruise?" He gave me a toothy made-for-publication grin.

"Well, your name." I blushed a little.

"You know that's not his real name? It's Thomas Cruise Mapother IV." He chuckled.

I frowned. "That's so bogus."

He shrugged. "All actors change their names. That's why they have such a great ring to them."

"Well I guess you just got lucky." I smiled a little at him. I liked the dimple on his cheek. It was cute.

"Mine's fake too."

I nearly choked on the chocolate.

"What?"

"Well, when I registered for my agent, they changed my name. It's better for you to change your name before you start getting title roles, so it isn't confusing when I get famous."

I frowned slightly, knitting my brows together. "What's your real name?"

"Alvin Curtis Jacobson." He snorted a laugh and stood.

I meant to laugh, but instead it came out as a forced guffaw. "So, your agent made you legally change your _name_?"

"And hair color. I'm actually a red head." He stretched quickly. "Ok, see ya on stage." He waltzed off.

I watched him walk away.

Suddenly the chocolate didn't taste so good.

* * *

**Tristan's POV:**

I climbed down from the catwalk and grunted in displeasure.

"What's wrong baby, were they making out or something?" Nick shot me a teasing look.

"You shuddup." I sat down in one of the booth chairs and looked up at the catwalk where I'd been watching Rory talk to Sean.

"Hey, don't mess with me." Nick leaned over the computer and shot me a happily evil look. "Bad things can happen."

"Like what?" I smirked.

"This computer is what makes the techies the top."

"Well certainly not the top of the popularity totem pole." I laughed sharply.

He let it roll off his back.

"See, when they installed this computer – it was for he technical director of the school. He quit after four days of us. But anyway, he left the computer. So it's uploaded to the school mainframe, no passwords needed." He grinned. "Basically I can know anything about any student at any time, see what staff member is doing what, and the school just thinks I'm another teacher."

I paused. Interested.

"Mr. DuGrey! You got a _D_ in study hall!" Nick laughed uproariously. "You don't even have to SHOW UP to get a C!"

"Hey!" I reached over him and "X"ed out the window. "That's illegal on so many levels of hell."

Nick agreed solemly. "You're right."

"He's such a deush." Kristen said sympathetically, as she looked over a clipboard. She held up a chocolate Christmas tree. "Here, have a bite."

"When did _those _go on sale?"

"About two years ago. I had them stashed in the fire extinguisher box." She admitted happily. "Chocolate is like wine – improves with age."

I highly doubted that.

"I don't know what Rory sees in him. He's so full of himself." I grumbled.

"Obviously compensating for something." Kristen agreed with a shake of her head.

"What a dick." Nick said drolly.

"Who would ever want to hang out with a guy who's full of himself?" Kristen said, twitching at the corners of his lips.

"I totally agree." Nick nodded his head energetically.

"I mean, a guy who thinks he's the coolest and ditches classes and womanizes and has a flavor of the week…" Kristen was grinning now.

I glared out them. "Oh shut up. I'm not _him_."

"Oh no!" Nick jumped off his stool and waltzed out of the booth. "That'd be a crazy assumption."

Kristen gave me a mirthful look. "Cheer up baby. Maybe he'll actually "break a leg"." She patted me on the back and followed Nick out.

I glared at her till she closed the door behind her. _I'm nothing like him_. I picked up the Christmas tree and took a big bite.

* * *

**Rory's POV:**

"I met him at the club. I was just…" I leaned up against the bar. It had just been painted on one side – so I was careful not to touch it. Especially because my costume was being held together with duct tape and safety pins till the costumer 'had a minute'.

"Say it with _PASSION_ Rory. This is the _man _that _you _LOVE!" Warren yelled from the back of the house.

I could practically see the italics and bolds in her voice.

"I just want to have him for my own!?" I yelled the line at her. "Who the heck wrote this crap? It's like the author of the Baby-sitter Club series was asked to write the script of an action movie!"

"It's quality writing. If the audience notices slight flaws, it means the _actress_ is not doing her job!" Warren had a way of letting her voice drip with condescending shrillness. She was still in her dancing leotard from rehearsal and was enjoying the stars of the boy actors who had decided to sit in. "AND PROJECT"

"I met him at the club and I just want to have him for my own." I enunciated carefully. There was no way the audience was going to buy a word of his show, but at least it would be the author – and not the actors – under fire when Paris wrote the burning review.

Warren's groan was "projected" throughout the entire theatre. "Take five, Rory."

I kicked off the stilleto heels and sat down on the stage. _Why did they give me this part? I could have played another part that didn't require talent._

"Acting isn't that complicated" Mrs. Patty had assured me. "All you have to do is say the words."

_Yeah, and swimming the english channel is just a short lap about the pond_. I snorted disgustedly.

I looked up and saw Sean leaning against the door jam in the back. He smiled at me, but I had this image of flaming red hair sprouting from his chin. And his name, for some reason made me think of Alvin's, the chipmunk's, voice isntead of his opera trained one. I frowned. Plus his smile wasn't encouraging, it was one of those at-least-i'l-look-better-than-her-in-the-show looks.

Everything wasn't right.

* * *

Mom had had plans for the night, so I waited patiently at the bus stop. The cold Novemeber wind made me bunch up against myself and pray that the bus would be ahead of schedule. As it was, I had another fifteen minutes till the scheduled time - and it's usually a good fifteen minutes behind.

"Please take a ride."

I looked up.

Tristan looked out at me from his Viper. "If not for your sanity, then mine. If you freeze in the cold I'll have to tell me therapist about it. And my therapist is a good $99 an hour, and it'll take two hours to cover my grief. So please get in the car and spare me the two hours and $200 dollars."

I was about the refuse - when a freezing gust of wind forced me to think irrationally.

"Fine. But you have to take me strait home."

"Where else would I take you? A strip club? Get in the car, Mary."

I grabbed the door, slid in, and slammed it behind me.

Despite my hard slam, the door closed as an expensive-sports-car door slams: lightly, with a feathery click. I settled myself in the thick leather of the bucket seat - which was soft and surprisngly uncold considering the car had sat in the cold parking lot since eight this morning.

"Home, jeeves." I didn't look at him, I folded my arms.

* * *

I was so shocked when she got in the car and I wasn't sure what to do with myself. I quickly checked my rearview mirror and pulled out of the lot.

"Home, Jeeves." She refused to look at me.

_Oh well, progress is progress._

"You're taking me strait home?" She asked again.

"Absolutely." _Stay overnight. Eat breakfast. Love me forever._

She glanced over and smiled slightly. I smiled too. When she smiles, I feel like I've accomplished something.

"What happened to your arm?" She pointed to the scratch on my arm. I'd cut myself climbing down from the catwalk.

"Oh...nothing."

"Healed well." She shrugged, looking out the window.

"If there's one thing I'm good at, it's cogulating." I shot her a half grin.

"So how did you feel about the style of witing in Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet _verses the play?" She asked. She was trying to throw me off, a punishment for usuing a word over three syllables.

"Don't as me. I still think that if all men are mortal and Aristiotle is a man, then all men are Aristotle."

She smiled genuinely. "Touche."


	13. A Car Ride

He pulled onto the highway and past the Hartford exit.

I realized how far out of his way my house was. I realized he'd never even been to my house. I entertained the thought (which means what - pouring it a drink? Bringing it a snack?) of telling him to bring me to the next bus stop. But I truly doubted he would.

"So, how are things with Bag Boy?" He grinned a little.

It felt right that he ask, even though we both knew that we weren't together.

"We're friends."

There was a pause. I didn't look at him, but the silence was thick enough that I knew he was thinking the same thing. There are many different kinds of silence, I've noticed in my seventeen years - and this was the type of silence that movies love to play off of. Not that anything cinematic was going to happen in this car.

"So, did you guys have lots of sex?" He grinned brighter. He'd been going to shock value.

"Oh, scads." I kept the blush in and kept my tone light.

His grin fell.

I threw him a bone. "We held hands mostly."

"No kidding," He threw me a glance as he changed lanes. "Then what, you fetch a pail of water?"

I laughed. I wasn't able to help it, it bubbled in my throat and I threw my head back and laugh. For some reason, the image of Dean in overalls going up a hill to fetch a pail of water made me want to cry with laughter.

* * *

I glanced over at her. Her head was tilted back, shoulders vibrating with laughter, and she was shaking her head slightly. 

I wanted to kiss her. But in some neutral way. Some, agape-not-eros way that would show that I actually like her. I like her eyes, her smile, her skin, her teeth...

She sensed me staring at her and clammed up.

"Look at the road, Tristan. Unlike you - my mom hasn't put a fat insurance policy on me if I die."

I turned back toward the road. It was starting to rain.

"Bet you're glad you're not sitting on the bench now?" I offered, as I flipped on the windshield wiper.

She shrugged a shoulder. "Thank you for the ride, Tristan."

I felt my lips turn in an uncontrollable smile. "My pleasure, Mary."

"So...I saw you hanging out with the techies the other day."

I nodded gently, unsure what she meant. Rory never seemed like the snobby type, but then again, one never knew.

"They never seemed like your crowd." She shrugged a shoulder lightly.

My eyebrows rose, it must have shown my surprise.

"Oh, no! I'm not saying it's _bad_. Just uncharacteristic."

"Well, they're funny. Plus, it looks like they're the only people in the theater besides me that don't like Sean Curtis." I shot her a look.

She shifted uncomfortably and I wished I hadn't said it, but - as usual - I couldn't contain myself. "He doesn't seem like _your _type. Semi-uncharacteristic, one might say."

"He's nice enough, and we have to rehearse together so it makes sense that we know each other somewhat." Her tone was so defensive I couldn't help but grin.

* * *

"That's really cool that you got Julie." He said. 

I thanked him mentally for changing the subject.

"Yeah - I was really lucky."

"You just get everything you want - don't you?" He gave me a teasing look.

"One couldn't get _everything _they want. Where would they keep it?" I skimmed my fingers lightly over the calfskin of the seat. "I suppose you run into that problem a lot."

"I still have a Mary sized pedestal that's empty."

"The only thing I've ever collected." I ignored him pointedly. "Was seashells - when I was a kid."

"I collected seashells." He gave me a sidelong smile.

I paused, surprised. "Really?"

"Yep, I keep my collection on all the beaches of the world. Perhaps you've seen it."

I grinned.

I took a moment to appreciate the interior of the car. It had no backseat, to the discomfort of once-virgin, I imagined. The sporty convertible was all about looks and luxury, the bucket seats hugged me, the shiny dashboard gleamed of a recent cleaning. I doubted that he'd been the one to give it.

"Is this _your _car?" I asked him lightly.

"My dad's. We kind of play musical cars, depending on how he's feeling that morning."

"The minivan on his day to drive the soccer carpool, the hearse with suicide doors on his day for the getaway driver?"

He smiled more genuinely, both of us slipping happily into the banter we'd shared before things had gotten rocky. He rested his hand gently on the window ledge of his door, his body now angled at me, so he could glance at me while still watching the road. I was struck a little bit, and the comfortable intimacy of the position.

The laughter gave me a new boldness and I popped open the glove compartment without thinking. And, for some reason, found myself pleasently surprised with the fact that no box of Trojan condoms leapt out at me.

"No birth control." He read my mind easily.

I blushed. His tone was so out of character

I reflected on that thought in my mind. This was such an out of character situation I wasn't sure what was _in _character. I'd always had this charicature image in my mind of his car, a sixpack under the passenger seat, a pillow for a girl to recline on stashed under his, a box of condoms in the glove compartment, and the lingering smell of perfume laced with wine in the headrest.

Instead his car had the sterile, untouched new-car scent, compliments, I imagined, on the part of a maid or garage tender. I actually wasn't sure if he had either - as I'd never been to his house, but it was a rather plausible assumption.

He pulled into Stars Hollow. He took his attention to the stores and sidestreets. Though he'd been here before, I knew, for a few of our _Romeo and Juliet _rehearsals, he watched everything slide past as though it was the first time he'd ever seen it.

"Charming?" I offered.

"A po-dunk steak-and-potatoe town where the high school does carwashes and the mailman paws through everyone's water bills." He shrugged a shoulder lightly and curled on corner of his lips. "I suppose charming works."

* * *

I was so jealous of her house I wasn't sure what to say.

Others had homes that looked lived in, instead of the museum I have back in Hartford. I wanted nothng more than to pull over to one of the dillapitated apartment buildings and whip out my Dad's credit card. He wouldn't even notice I was gone, and I could drive Rory to school every day.

* * *

I knew he didn't mean it. The hungry look in Tristan's eyes told me that he wanted to stop and go into the market and understand what the twistie ties and plastic bags were for. He wanted to go up to the gazebo and flick the peeling paint off under his fingernail as he people watched Kirk and Patty argue over the proper choreography of _Swan Lake._

And it was something about _that _that charmed the living hell out of me.


	14. A Modern Carriage Ride

**Hey guys, I'm hoping to finish this story within the month - so for the readers that began when I started this story two million years ago - there is a finish line in the distance! Just Review to remind me to work on it!**

* * *

"So, _this_ is Stars Hollow." He watched the streets go by through his window. I knew he was probably imagining that the "mansions" of Stars Hollows were where his gardener and valet lived. I almost didn't want him to see my home, because he'd make some type of quip about my Mother being a maid, or that this was all "bag boy", Dean, could afford.

People stared at his car as it strolled down main street with the sleek, velvety quality that cars like his have. Only cars of these qualities can _truly _be blackNice cars like his don't go through Stars Hollow unless someone got a rent-a-car for Prom, and even then it's rare. Passerbyer's eyes got even bigger as they realized I was in the car. I knew Dean would be hearing about this within a matter of hours.

We rolled slowly by Babette and Patty. They didn't waste a minute to stare, they quickly looked at each other and took off in opposite directions.

_Make that a matter of minutes._

"Quaint. Charming. Cute." Tristan read the words off an advertisement of an apartment for rent. "Those words describe a _residence?"_

"Sorry, all the HUGE, _EXPENSIVE_, LOOK-AT-ME-I'M-WEALTHY apartments already have tenents." I parried with a snort.

He pulled onto my street, going much slower than I'd ever seen him go before. He always peeled out of the parking lot like he had the police after him. The taillights tatooing a burnt red into the air, the sound of burning rubber screaming a duet with the laughter of whichever excited gir was currently in the passenger seat. But right now he was going, I checked the speed-o-meter, a mere 10 miles per hour on a street that was obviously a 25 mph zone. I didn't comment.

I watched from my window as he gently pulled onto my driveway. He glanced at me in this look that was so...quiet. He shrugged a shoulder. "See you at rehearsal tomorrow, Julie?"

I smirked at his use of my character name and glanced up at the sky. It had finished raining. "Yes Dallas, you shall."

"Can I walk you up?"

"Then I'd be pressured to invite you in, and you'd be pressured to accept, and I'm sure you wouldn't want that." I smiled lightly.

"We wouldn't want that." He popped the lock from his side. "Have a lovely day, Rory." He said it gallantly.

"What a gentleman." I reached for the door handle. But I didn't open it. I waited for his response.

He obliged. "Now all I need is a cane and glass of bourban and I can be a class-act, rich 80 year gold."

* * *

She opened the door, paused a beat, studying the gleaming oak interior of the door handle. "Don't offer me a ride again Tris, I'll say no. This was special circumstance" 

"Then I'll have to ask Mother Nature for rain again." I tilted his head teasingly.

"DuGrey, not even _you _are that charming."

Our conversation had become a balance. Who would tip first? Who would break the plastic, platonic silence first? Something had changed in this short car ride and we both knew it. The questions were simple and float in every meeting in every heart in every person. 

1) Do I really like him?  
2) Does he like me, or will I embarrass myself?  
3) Can this even go anywhere?  
4) Do I care if it does?

I looked at the way her hair fell, and how perfect she looked in the passenger seat of _my _car.

1) yes  
2) hell if I know  
3) I don't even care, I just want to try  
4) more than anything.

She smiled slightly, waiting for my remark to her tease. She had opened the door and the clean air, purified by the rain, swept it. It's a familiar scent from the first grade, the rain on the blacktop mixed with freshly cut glass and cloud dilluted sunlight. It was a scent memory I knew would stick. I focused on her face a moment, hoping for a vivid visual memory as well. A light film of chapstick was about the only make-up she was wearing, but it was the perfect way that suited her. Her hair was parted lazily, thick with product-free shine.

I laughed to myself. _I probably think more about how she looks than _she _does!_

"Thank you for the ride, Tris." She slid out of the car easily, with more grace than a the thousand debutants and the two thousand drunks I've seen exit this car. She didn't look back as she walked around the puddles to her door, let herself in, and closed the door behind her.

* * *

I had tried to slam the door a little bit, be less of the demure females that plagued him at every ball and party he probably goes to in the circles he ran around in, but the door closed as only expensive cars can - with a soft, feathery click. 

I couldn't turn around as I walked away, I was blushing too hard and there was no way I was going to let him see that.

His looks towards the end of the ride had been too meaningful. It wasn't the Tristan that I've always been used to. The teasing, laughing, arrogant prick whose words are laced with double meanings and his smiles curved with knowledge and secrets no admirerer will ever touch.

I watched him through the opaque, vellum quality of our front window curtains. He was idling in the driveway. I couldn't see his face well enough to know if anything was going to happen. I waited for him to leave, but for some reason - part of me begged for him to have a flat tire or need an oil change.

The car backed up smoothly and he turned onto the road without a second glance at his rearview mirror. He sped out so quickly that I realized he was a much more competant driver than he'd let on. His slow driving to my house had all been stalling.

For some reason, the idea gave me a soft, private thrill.

Mom wasn't home from work yet, we usually arrived home about the same time on rehearsal days- but his driving had been scads faster than the bus.

I laughed at my use of the word "scads", bringing me back - again - to the image of Tristan sidling up gently in his car and asking if I needed a ride. _My knight in shining sarcasm._

There are certain images that always stick in your mind. Just snapshots, usually at random at not even clearly important. I have one of Dean coming from around a tree, of my Mom - arms full of take out. They aren't important, yet somehow will never leave your mind. That image was now my snapshot of Tristan.

I slipped onto the couch, ready to begin my homework.

Then I groaned.

In my attempt at a collected exit, I had left my backpack in Tristan's car.


	15. Lorelai's Circus

I cruised through the town. The staring from bystanders, something I'm normally used to, was suddenly disconcerting. See, they weren't staring because they were admiring me, they were staring because I was something out of place. I was something they weren't used to, but for some reason I didn't mind it as much as I normally would have.

My cell phone buzzed and I took my eyes off the road to glance into the small backseat where I'd thrown it. I paused a beat. Something else was thrown there too.

A backpack. It sat there sullenly, the canvas swollen with the weight of ostentatious textbooks. I knew it wasn't mine. I haven't put books in my backpack since the third grade. I grabbed the phone and answered it, watching the backpack carefully in the rearview mirror.

"Hello?"

"Hi, um, Tristan?"

My car swerved into the other lane. Thankfully, Stars Hollow has less traffic than my driveway and I smoothly corrected myself, despite the rain that had started to pour again. "Mary. Hey."

"I think I left my backpack either at the bus stop or in your car. Is it in your car?"

_HELL YES IT IS _"Uh, yeah. Should I bring it to your house? I'm not that far out."

"Could you? I have a human bio test tomorrow and I don't know what I'll do without my notes."

"Well what will you give me in exchange?" I smiled a little and swung an illegal U-turn, tattooing the blacktop with a burn-rubber stain.

"Well, um, great. See you in a couple minutes. I'll wait outside so you don't even have to get out" She pretended not to hear me. I smiled at that.

"It's pouring rain, I'll come inside."

"You don't have to-"

"Be there in a few." I said, pretending not to hear her. I hung up. I laughed, _there IS a God_.

* * *

I sat in my entry deciding whether to go out into the wet and wait or not. 

"I don't know why you're worrying!" I scolded myself. "He'll probably freaking drop it off and leave, just because he gets out of the car does not mean he'll stick around."

The backdoor slammed open and shut, I heard the jangle of my Mom's two keys and fifteen keychains. "Hey Circus Freak, I got Chinese Take-Out for four so we can eat it ALL and become fat and have to make up stories of boyfriends that died and that's why we're still single to make up for our lonliness till we eventually believe it ourselves."

I laughed a little and turned to face my Mom, laden with the bags of tiny white take out boxes. We always order three smalls instead of one large just so we get a table littered with the cute white boxes.

"You're home early! I knew you were home though because I heard from five different people that you got a ride home in a gorgeous car. So I proceeded to get enough take out for you to tell me how you got Sean Curtis to drive you all the way to the Boonies of Stars Hollow." She plopped uncermoniasly on the table next to me and began to arrange the cartons into a smily face on the table.

"Actually, it wasn't Sean." I helped her spread everything out on the table and begin diving into the little cartons.

"Who was it?"

Ding-Dong

"Oh, I invited Babette to come over and tell me about you and the fancy car. I thought you'd like to hear about it." Mom jumped up quickly and skidded, bare socks against wood grain floor, toward the door. I jumped up too, but her legs are longer. There was a small silence as my Mom stared at our visitor. I waited around the corner. With my mom any kind of greeting from "Why hello, come in." to "Who the hell are you?" to "The antagonist and the protagonist cannot be the same person unless thre is an internal conflict." (She doesn't know that much about literature, but she loves reading one sentance off mynotes and turning it into the day's motto.)

"Who the hell are you?" She'd gone for an a-typical response.

"Mini-me, did you get a male stripper and not invite me?" Mom called, knowing both full well who Tristan was and that I was around the corner cringing. Without being able to see either of them, I knew Mom had a bright, Cheshire cat grin and that Tristan was standing there with an allknowing smirk.

"Mini-me!" Mom crowed.

I came from around the corner. I'd been half right. Mom had her brilliant smile, but Tristan stood awkwardly, feet together, backpack clasped carefully to contain the overflow of notes and textbooks.

"Hi Rory. Um. Here's your stuff." He held it out, arms flexed tense against the weight.

"Not a stripper?" Mom puckered her bottom lip.

Babette chose that moment to burst through the side door.

"Rory cruised into town with a really fine young piece of meat and a lovely car!" Her voice carried into the hall.

Tristan's eyes were wider than saucers.

Mom's eyes lit up with more glee than she'd shown during the finale episode of "Dawson's Creek".

Babette's froze as she backed out of the door and slammed it behind her. Leaving the awkward situation for me.

My own eyes filled with tears.

* * *

Rory is probably one of the least attention grabbing person I know. The fact that she's the lead of the play makes me grin occasionally in the middle of class just because I know she's dreading it more than most kids hate the dentist. Yet, at this moment, I stood in the middle of a circus and Rory looked like she was going to begin to cry. I could tell because her eye shade went from her icy cerulean to a watering glaze. 

"Heyyyy."

The word, drawn out in a desperate attempt to fill the vacuum, hung suspended in the triangle that the three of us formed. Rory's Mom grinned brilliantly, feeling no awkwardness - it seemed - instead she felt near pleasure.

"Heyyyy." I repeated again. Shocked I'd opened my mouth the first time.

"I'm just dropping off Rory's backpack. Seems like my car made a bigger impact than I have." I held out the backpack, my arms strained almost noticably against the weight of my books.

Rory reached out and took it, cradling it against herself, using her whole body to support the weight. I was curious how she was able to heft the thing around campus usually.

"Normally I leave the Bio book in my locker, but I have a test coming up." She read my mind easily, though her eyes still darted nervously.

"I was gonna ask, because if you carried that around normally you'd be ripped as hell."

"Oh she is, you just have to see her in the shower!" Lorelai blurted out cheerfully.

I'm curious if, in that moment, I looked as shocked as Rory looked mortified.

* * *

I'm back, sorry it took so long. Promise I'll update soon?-ish? 


	16. Moving Along

I cruised through the town. The staring from bystanders, something I'm normally used to, was suddenly disconcerting. See, they weren't staring because they were admiring me, they were staring because I was something out of place. I was something they weren't used to, but for some reason I didn't mind it as much as I normally would have.

My cell phone buzzed and I took my eyes off the road to glance into the small backseat where I'd thrown it. I paused a beat. Something else was thrown there too.

A backpack. It sat there sullenly, the canvas swollen with the weight of ostentatious textbooks. I knew it wasn't mine. I haven't put books in my backpack since the third grade. I grabbed the phone and answered it, watching the backpack carefully in the rearview mirror.

"Hello?"

"Hi, um, Tristan?"

My car swerved into the other lane. Thankfully, Stars Hollow has less traffic than my driveway and I smoothly corrected myself, despite the rain that had started to pour again. "Mary. Hey."

"I think I left my backpack either at the bus stop or in your car. Is it in your car?"

_HELL YES IT IS _"Uh, yeah. Should I bring it to your house? I'm not that far out."

"Could you? I have a human bio test tomorrow and I don't know what I'll do without my notes."

"Well what will you give me in exchange?" I smiled a little and swung an illegal U-turn, tattooing the blacktop with a burn-rubber stain.

"Well, um, great. See you in a couple minutes. I'll wait outside so you don't even have to get out" She pretended not to hear me. I smiled at that.

"It's pouring rain, I'll come inside."

"You don't have to-"

"Be there in a few." I said, pretending not to hear her. I hung up. I laughed, _there IS a God_.

* * *

I sat in my entry deciding whether to go out into the wet and wait or not. 

"I don't know why you're worrying!" I scolded myself. "He'll probably freaking drop it off and leave, just because he gets out of the car does not mean he'll stick around."

The backdoor slammed open and shut, I heard the jangle of my Mom's two keys and fifteen keychains. "Hey Circus Freak, I got Chinese Take-Out for four so we can eat it ALL and become fat and have to make up stories of boyfriends that died and that's why we're still single to make up for our lonliness till we eventually believe it ourselves."

I laughed a little and turned to face my Mom, laden with the bags of tiny white take out boxes. We always order three smalls instead of one large just so we get a table littered with the cute white boxes.

"You're home early! I knew you were home though because I heard from five different people that you got a ride home in a gorgeous car. So I proceeded to get enough take out for you to tell me how you got Sean Curtis to drive you all the way to the Boonies of Stars Hollow." She plopped uncermoniasly on the table next to me and began to arrange the cartons into a smily face on the table.

"Actually, it wasn't Sean." I helped her spread everything out on the table and begin diving into the little cartons.

"Who was it?"

Ding-Dong

"Oh, I invited Babette to come over and tell me about you and the fancy car. I thought you'd like to hear about it." Mom jumped up quickly and skidded, bare socks against wood grain floor, toward the door. I jumped up too, but her legs are longer. There was a small silence as my Mom stared at our visitor. I waited around the corner. With my mom any kind of greeting from "Why hello, come in." to "Who the hell are you?" to "The antagonist and the protagonist cannot be the same person unless thre is an internal conflict." (She doesn't know that much about literature, but she loves reading one sentance off mynotes and turning it into the day's motto.)

"Who the hell are you?" She'd gone for an a-typical response.

"Mini-me, did you get a male stripper and not invite me?" Mom called, knowing both full well who Tristan was and that I was around the corner cringing. Without being able to see either of them, I knew Mom had a bright, Cheshire cat grin and that Tristan was standing there with an allknowing smirk.

"Mini-me!" Mom crowed.

I came from around the corner. I'd been half right. Mom had her brilliant smile, but Tristan stood awkwardly, feet together, backpack clasped carefully to contain the overflow of notes and textbooks.

"Hi Rory. Um. Here's your stuff." He held it out, arms flexed tense against the weight.

"Not a stripper?" Mom puckered her bottom lip.

Babette chose that moment to burst through the side door.

"Rory cruised into town with a really fine young piece of meat and a lovely car!" Her voice carried into the hall.

Tristan's eyes were wider than saucers.

Mom's eyes lit up with more glee than she'd shown during the finale episode of "Dawson's Creek".

Babette's froze as she backed out of the door and slammed it behind her. Leaving the awkward situation for me.

My own eyes filled with tears.

* * *

Rory is probably one of the least attention grabbing person I know. The fact that she's the lead of the play makes me grin occasionally in the middle of class just because I know she's dreading it more than most kids hate the dentist. Yet, at this moment, I stood in the middle of a circus and Rory looked like she was going to begin to cry. I could tell because her eye shade went from her icy cerulean to a watering glaze. 

"Heyyyy."

The word, drawn out in a desperate attempt to fill the vacuum, hung suspended in the triangle that the three of us formed. Rory's Mom grinned brilliantly, feeling no awkwardness - it seemed - instead she felt near pleasure.

"Heyyyy." I repeated again. Shocked I'd opened my mouth the first time.

"I'm just dropping off Rory's backpack. Seems like my car made a bigger impact than I have." I held out the backpack, my arms strained almost noticably against the weight of my books.

Rory reached out and took it, cradling it against herself, using her whole body to support the weight. I was curious how she was able to heft the thing around campus usually.

"Normally I leave the Bio book in my locker, but I have a test coming up." She read my mind easily, though her eyes still darted nervously.

"I was gonna ask, because if you carried that around normally you'd be ripped as hell."

"Oh she is, you just have to see her in the shower!" Lorelai blurted out cheerfully.

I'm curious if, in that moment, I looked as shocked as Rory looked mortified.

* * *

I'm back, sorry it took so long. Promise I'll update soon?-ish? 


End file.
